Preludes
by KameTerra
Summary: Raphael and April had never spent much time together… but as their newfound friendship deepens, both are unprepared for what it brings.  Prequel to "Bound."  Rated T for language.
1. Genesis

Author's Note: _I began writing these partly to flesh out the backstory of Bound for reference, and partly just to amuse myself when the mood struck me, never intending them as something to be published. But now, having amassed several of these mini-scenes, I figured, what the heck? There might be some fans out there who will enjoy them, and there's no sense in just letting them gather dust on my hard drive, so to speak. So here's what I have so far. More will follow as my muse dictates..._

_Rated T only for language - no sexual content herein. _

_Enjoy!_  
_~KT_

* * *

Preludes  
By KameTerra

"Hey Raph," April greeted him through the open window.

"Hey," the turtle returned easily, his eyes scanning the apartment behind her. "Casey around?"

"'Fraid not," April said with a shake of her head. "He called to say the night guy was sick, so he volunteered to fill in. Why, did you guys have plans or something?"

"Nah, not really," Raphael said. "I was just in the area; thought I'd stop by."

"Ah. Well, sorry. I'll let him know you came by, though.

"Thanks," Raphael said with a nod, and he turned to leave.

"Unless…"

He paused, and turned to look at her.

"…you wanted to come in anyway?" She shrugged. "I mean, not that I'm doing anything terribly interesting. Just kind of killing time. But you're welcome to hang here if you want a change of scenery."

The moment the offer was out, Raph had a casual refusal on his lips, but something about the look on her face made him reconsider. Casey didn't talk much about it, not explicitly, anyway, but Raph knew there had been trouble in paradise lately. And maybe he was imagining things, but April seemed…well, she seemed like maybe she could use some company. She was his friend, too, after all. He raised his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. "Sure, why not. Ain't like I got anything pressing to get home to."

April smiled somewhat wanly, and stopped back from the window. "Good enough. Come on in, and help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

Raph needed no second invitation on that one. _L_e_ast I'll get a free beer out of it, _he thought.

* * *

"All these channels, and nothing on," April said, tossing the remote on the couch in exasperation.

Raphael popped another chip in his mouth—_real_ ones, not that healthy shit Leo brought back from the last grocery run—then he brushed the crumbs off his hands before snatching the remote. "Whatever, you're just not stopping on the right stuff." He went back to the guide channel and paged up rapidly until he saw what he wanted. The theme song was still playing when the station came on.

_BAD BOYS BAD BOYS, WHATCHA GONNA DO? WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU?_

April raised her eyebrows. "Cops? That's what you consider quality programming?" Then she cast him a sidelong glance, and said, "On second thought, I guess it shouldn't surprise me."

"Not _just _Cops…Cops in HD." He grinned at her. "Ain't Jerry Springer, but it'll do."

She rolled her eyes. "I've never understood what was so entertaining about this crap. I'm already sick of it, and it hasn't even started."

"Well see, that's your problem right there," Raph said, jabbing a finger in the air to emphasize his point. "You gotta give it more time—kind of an acquired taste." He purposely ignored her grimace. "An' lucky for you, you'll have plenty of time. Looks like they're doin' a marathon."

"Ugh. I think I'm going to have a beer after all."

Raph grinned at her again. "Now you're gettin' the idea."

* * *

"Wha—why did she even _bother_ trying to get away with it? Even _I _can tell she's coked out on something, there's no way a _cop_ wouldn't notice!"

Raphael looked over at her, one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement.  
"Wait, it gets better. They're gonna find drugs in the car, an' the chick's gonna claim she has no idea how they got there."

April glanced at him, but didn't comment further, watching silently as exactly what Raph had predicted unfolded on screen. Shortly afterward, the woman was taken away in handcuffs, still protesting.

"You've seen this one before, huh?" she said at last.

Raphael grinned. "Nope, but it don't take long to get the idea. You'll see."

She sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that." Then she took another swig of beer.

* * *

"Okay, lay it down. Whatcha got?"

She studied the screen intently for another moment, assessing the situation. "Meth," she said finally. "And he's got more stowed… in the glove box." She paused, then added, "And he doesn't have a driver's license." She glanced over at him. "You?"

"Not bad," he said. "I'll second you on the meth, but there's somethin' else mixin' it up. Prob'ly booze. Open container in front, I'll bet. He'll blame that one on the passenger—as if that makes it any less illegal."

April nodded. "That it?"

"Yep. Same wager?"

"You got it," she said, rubbing her hands eagerly. "I've got a good feeling about this one."

They both watched the drama unfold, and after a few minutes, April gave a jubilant whoop. "In the glove box, what'd I tell you!"

Raphael scowled. "I still say he's been hittin' the bottle—way to slurred for pure meth."

"Still, no open container—and there! No driver's license OR registration! That's two out of three! I win!" she crowed, slamming her beer bottle down on the coffee table.

"You sure you ain't watched this show before?" Raph asked with raised eye ridges. She shook her head, eyes sparkling with victory, and he decided the smile on her face was well worth the loss. "I think you missed your calling—ever think of goin' into law enforcement?"

This time it was her turn to laugh. "I can barely stand watching this stuff on TV! There's no way I could deal with people like this on a daily basis."

He shrugged. "Well, you gotta admit, it'd sure make you feel smarter bein' surrounded by idiots all the time."

April turned to him with a smirk. "What do you think I hang around you guys for?"

* * *

"Ah Jeezus. Please, no, anything but this."

"Oh quit whining, a bet's a bet. I beat you at Cops; now it's my turn to pick the show."

"Gee, look at the time—I should really be gettin' back…" Then he ducked just in time to dodge the plush pillow she threw at him.

"No way. I sat through over two hours of your show, and now it's payback. Besides, Sex and the City is not that bad. Drama, comedy…boobs…"

"…well, I guess I can hang out a _bit _longer. But I'm definitely gonna need another beer."

* * *

"Hey, thanks for keeping me company." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had fun tonight, in a weird way."

"Yeah…um, me too. And uh, thanks for the drinks."

"Anytime," she said with a smile.

Raphael couldn't help smiling back. He'd been surprised by how quickly the night had passed, and even more surprised by how disappointed he'd been upon realizing how late it was. "Well, uh, good night, then. Guess I'll see ya round."

"Sure," she said brightly. "Maybe next time there's a Cops marathon on, I'll give you a call."

He studied her eyes seriously, and finally forced a smile. "Deal," he said quietly.

* * *

He didn't really think she'd call. To be honest, he'd passed it off as one of those things people said with no intention of ever following through. So he was rather taken aback when she mentioned it next time he was over hangin' out with Casey.

"Ready for a rematch this week?" April said as she walked past them into the kitchen. He and Casey were watching a fight on TV, and April had been working on her computer in the spare room they had set up as something like an office.

Raph barely registered the question, assuming she was talking to Casey. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, Casey wasn't paying attention either.

"Raph. Did you hear me?"

"What?" he said, snapping his head around to look at her.

"I said, are you ready for a rematch?" He must have looked blank, because after a short pause she said, "You know, for Cops?"

He looked back at the TV in confusion. "Um…"

"Not right now!" she said, correctly interpreting his confusion. "I mean later on this week. Thought maybe we could hang out."

He was still slightly confused, until he remembered that Casey had mentioned in passing that he was planning on picking up more night shifts. Apparently the guy who'd called in last week had been getting really flaky, and Casey was eager for the extra cash. April was probably just looking to pass the time while he was gone.

"Um…I could, I guess," Raphael stuttered, throwing a questioning glance at Casey. His buddy merely gave an impartial shrug that clearly told Raph he was on his own on this one.

April didn't miss his hesitation. "Oh, hey, if you don't want to, that's cool. No pressure. I was just—,"

"No, no, it ain't that!" he interjected, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "I was just, um, I'll have to find out if Leo's got any training runs planned for this week, that's all. Make sure I'm in the clear."

April scanned his eyes briefly, and nodded. "Okay. I mean, either way is fine. Just give me a call if you're up for it sometime, and we'll work it out."

Raph knew she was putting the ball in his court so he'd have an "out" in case he just didn't know how to refuse her invitation. "Sounds good," he said.

She flashed him a smile. "Great. Well, enjoy the fight."

"Thanks," he and Casey muttered together, both of them glued to the TV once more. But for some reason, after she left, Raph had trouble getting back into the match. Maybe it was because the fighters were getting sluggish, grappling feebly, both lacking the stamina to turn on the burst of energy that might turn the fight around. That had to be it. Maybe the next fight would be better.

"Goddamn heavyweights," Casey grumbled in disgust.

Raphael chuffed in agreement as the ref reset the match yet again, bringing the two fighters back to the center to square off. Then he said, "I think I will. Come over to hang out with April, I mean. If that's cool." He glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his friend's reaction. Not that he thought Casey would have a problem with it under normal circumstances, it was just that right now, with things still so shaky between April and Casey, he was trying to be extra cautious.

"Knock yourself out, man," Casey said casually, and it seemed an honest reply. "Jus' don't drink all my beer," he warned, "an' believe me you're gonna be tempted, if you let _her_ pick the TV show."


	2. Beer and Pizza Rolls

He didn't think anything of it at the time.

As promised, Raphael had called April to let her know what nights he was free for a rematch. She hadn't mentioned including his brothers, and it hadn't occurred to him to ask.

But now, heading over to Casey and April's place solo, he was starting to second-guess himself. It was usually Donny who hung out with her one-on-one, and playing the conversation back in his head, he couldn't help thinking that maybe when she'd said "why don't you come over Thursday," she'd meant "you" in the plural sense, and not "you" as in Raphael exclusively. The last time they'd hung out alone had been kind of a fluke, a spur-of-the-moment thing. Probably she'd just _assumed_ he'd know his brothers were invited this time…

And when she asked where the others were, he was gonna look like a complete asshole.

He slowed as he descended the fire escape, nervously wondering if he should call his brothers now and invite them, but if he did there'd be no covering that fact that it was an afterthought, which might make him look like an even _more _of an asshole—'specially with a brother like Mikey, who was bound to ask a million questions. Raphael fidgeted slightly as he looked downward at the window of the apartment, but after a minute's hesitation he heaved a resigned breath and hopped lightly down to the landing. He couldn't keep her waiting forever, and it seemed safer to risk ridicule from April than from Michelangelo—after all, his brother he had to _live_ with.

Raph paused, feeling unaccountably nervous, and then rapped gently on the window. Even though she was expecting him, they'd all learned the hard way that April was much more… reasonable if they knocked. _Calm down, it's just April_, he told himself as he watched her approach, but still he held is breath when she raised the window. At once and a wave of warmth and delicious smells wafted out onto the fire escape.

April met his eyes, smiling widely. "Hey, great timing—I just took the pizza rolls out of the oven. C'mon in!" Then she turned and headed back to the kitchen.

Raph finally let out his breath, and with the released air fled the last of his unfounded uneasiness.

Her eyes hadn't so much as glanced behind him—not even for a second. And even though he didn't think it really _meant_ anything, it was nice to know that he was enough, just by himself.

* * *

"Eight…nine… ugh, I can't watch anymore," April said, scrunching her eyes shut.

Raphael popped several more pizza rolls in his mouth, holding up three fingers to keep track, and when she finally opened her eyes, Raph grinned and began chewing.

"Gross," she said with a shake of her head. COPS was on the TV, but in light of current events, it had temporarily faded into the background.

"Hey, that's nothing," Raph defended with a spray of crumbs. He chewed some more and finally swallowed. "Mike did eighteen once, even if he did puke afterward." Then he grinned and washed everything down with a few swallows of beer.

"See, that's the thing I don't get—why is that even something you'd try and _do_? Who can fit the most pizza rolls in their mouth at once? Who cares! What's the _point_?"

Raph shrugged. "It's fun?" he ventured.

"Eating until you puke is _fun_?"

"Well no, not if you're the one doing the puking." He grinned. "But for everyone else it is."

April rolled her eyes skyward and gave a sigh.

"Well come on, don't knock it til you've tried it. Let's see how many _you_ can do."

"I am _not_ shoving pizza rolls in my mouth til I puke! Besides, I'd say you have an unfair advantage."

"Okay," the turtle conceded. He was already guessing her tiny mouth could only fit four to five pizza rolls, at most. Pathetic. No contest. "Let's pick something else, then."

She eyed him speculatively. "Like what?"

"Somethin' neither of us has an advantage with. Like…" he scanned around the room, and his eyes caught on the remains of his beer on the end table. "Like somethin' that ain't affected by how big your mouth is," he said, snatching up the bottle and holding it up.

April's eyes narrowed slightly. "What, who can drink the most beer? Come on—your stomach _must_ be bigger."

"Not with all those pizza rolls I just ate," he said, but she shook her head.

"No way! Then you'll be puking all over my apartment!"

He thought for a moment. "Well let's make it a speed contest, then—who can drink, say, one bottle of beer the fastest."

"Ugh, I still might puke…"

"Oh come on, ya big chicken. What, afraid you're gonna _lose_?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's it, I'm _so afraid_ I'll lose face when I can't guzzle beer as fast as you. Oh, how will I ever live it down?" she said in a mock despair.

"Look, if you win, we can watch more of that show you like," Raph coaxed.

April raised an eyebrow. "Sex and the City?" she asked suspiciously. "What about if you win?"

He wasn't going to win—truth was, she'd kinda gotten him hooked on the show. But damned if he was gonna come out and suggest they continue watching it. "If I win, then you gotta see how many pizza rolls you can shove in your mouth." Sounded entertaining, even if it wasn't gonna happen.

"Oookay," April agreed slowly. "You're on." She got up to get two fresh bottles, sat down next to him on the couch, and handed him one. She held up her bottle in a toast. "To friendly competition," she said, and Raph obligingly clacked the neck of his bottle against hers.

"Count of three. Ready?" he asked.

April licked her lips slightly, and nodded.

"One... two…three!"

Both of them tipped their bottles back, but Raph spluttered on the first sip. "This is _warm_!" he gasped, but April didn't pause in her drinking, her throat working steadily even as she tried not to smile.

_Dirty trick_, he fumed inwardly, but he didn't have time to do more than glower at her. So much for letting her win—she was already half done. Damn. Raphael chugged steadily, but he was still several swallows away when she drained the last of her bottle and slammed it down on the table. And she was pretty damn fast—woulda given him a run for his money even without a head start—but that wasn't what surprised him most. She'd fucking shotgunned the damn thing, finished it all in one go!

Raph finished seconds after her, and when he'd caught his breath, he turned to her and said, "You fucking cheat worse than Mikey!"

"Who, me?" April said with feigned innocence.

"A _warm_ beer? _Really?_" he fumed.

"What? You never specified they had to be cold."

He reached out and grabbed her bottle, which was still quite cool to the touch. In fact, he was surprised he hadn't noticed his bottle wasn't cold when she gave it to him. "Well _yours_ seems cold enough."

"Of course. Who wants to drink warm beer," she said, crinkling her nose slightly.

Raph almost laughed then, but remembered in time the he was mad at her, and schooled his face into an angry frown. "You're a shark, anyway—where'd you learn to chug beer like that?" he asked, thinking of the usual dainty sips she took.

April belched loudly. "College. Where else?"

"Goddamn it," Raph muttered. Sure, losing sounded okay when it was his choice, but this was just unfair! Then he glanced over at her, and April smiled broadly, her eyes dancing. He couldn't help it—he broke into a reluctant smile, and she saw it and started laughing. "Fuck. You got me," he conceded, shaking his head in grudging admiration. "You are one cunning broad."

"I hang out with a bunch of ninjas. What do you expect?"

"Well maybe you should hang out with _Leo_ some more, cuz I can guarantee that wouldn't be his idea of fair play."

"Maybe not, but Leo wouldn't challenge me to a beer chugging competition, either. And, he wouldn't have underestimated me so easily." She lifted her chin just a little, a flush on her cheeks and a challenge in her eyes.

He met her gaze, and just for a moment his breath caught in his throat. Disconcerted, he looked away, his heart pounding strangely, but he shrugged it off, telling himself it was just the beer catching up with him. He wasn't a heavy drinker, in spite of his fondness for the stuff. He looked at her again, and nodded. "You're right. An' next time, I won't either."


	3. Tears and Advice

_My muse has apparently taken off running with this story__, so you get another update. ;) Enjoy!_

_~KT_

_

* * *

_

The next time they had plans to hang out, Raphael knew as soon as he saw her that something was wrong. She was upset—or had been recently—and it wasn't too hard to guess why.

"Hey Raph," she greeted him, but her smile lacked its usual brightness, and her eyes looked slightly red.

"Hey," he answered, trying his best to act normal even though he felt incredibly uncomfortable. He knew something of the problems they'd been having, but Casey hadn't gone into detail, and Raph preferred it that way. Last thing he wanted to do was get in the middle.

"Can I get you anything?" April offered. "Beer? Soda? I'm not really hungry myself, but if you want I could throw a pizza in the oven."

"Uh, just a soda's fine." He observed her discreetly as she fetched him a drink, but when she handed it to him, he didn't open it right away. Instead he just stood there holding it. "Look…" he said hesitantly, "If you'd rather, uh, do this another time, it's no sweat."

April glanced up at him, but even that brief moment of eye contact told him more than he wanted to know. She looked down again almost immediately, blinking rapidly and obviously struggling to compose herself.

If Raph was uncomfortable before, he was positively horrified now. He hadn't meant to make her _cry, _for chrissake. "Christ, I'm—fuck. I didn't mean ta—"

She shook her head, wiping her eyes with her hands, and drew a steadying breath before looking up at him. "No, no, it's okay." She wiped her eyes again with the heel of her hand. "I'm sorry, it's… I'm sorry." She sniffed, and smiled bravely at him. "I'm usually not like this, I must be totally hormonal right now. I'd really like you to stay, if I haven't completely scared you off by now."

"I don't scare that easy," he replied, but it was a bald-faced lie. Having three brothers, he'd had to put up with a lot of shit over the years, but he'd never had to deal with something like _this._ No one in his family tended to burst into tears at the drop of a hat; he had no fuckin' idea how to react. Maybe he should've, like, tried to comfort her or something. But she seemed okay now…

April smiled again, somewhat knowingly, he thought, but at least it seemed more genuine that it had when he'd first gotten here. "Maybe we could just watch a movie or something tonight," she suggested.

"Sounds good," Raph agreed, vastly relieved. Seemed safer that way. Hopefully he could manage the next three hours without making her cry again.

"Good," April smiled. "You pick the movie, I'll make the popcorn."

* * *

Later, back at the lair, Raph wasn't at all surprised to get a call from Casey.

"Yeah," Raph answered as he snapped his phone open.

"_Hey man. I'm on my break. …You at home?_"

"Yup. Just got back from your place a little while ago," he said in a neutral tone.

There was silence on the line then, but Raph just waited.

"_So April… was she, uh, okay?"_

Raphael was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "She seemed pretty upset, man. She didn't, like, unload on me or anything. Didn't really say anything about it at all. But she was… pretty upset."

There was a sigh from the other end, and then a muttered curse. _"I screwed up,"_ Casey muttered. _"Ain't like it's only my fault, or nothin', but lately I just… we just… seem to say all the wrong things to each other. An' by the time I think a' the __right__ things, it's too late. Ya know?"_

"Yeah. I know," Raph said. How many times had he gotten into stupid fights with his brothers, and wished later he could take it all back? And the mere fact that Casey was explaining all this spoke volumes about how bad he felt—this kind of soul-bearing was rare for both of them.

Casey sighed again, and Raph knew the sound so well, he could picture the gesture that went along with it, his friend running a hand through his unruly hair as he paced. _"I don't know what to do. What the hell do I do?"_ he asked softly.

It was a complex question. Too complex—he was sure Casey wasn't just referring to the immediate situation, and he was equally sure his friend didn't really expect him to answer. But unbidden came the memory of April's face when she'd met his eyes shortly before breaking down in tears, the pain etched across her features, the uncertainty in her eyes, and the way his own heart had constricted at seeing it. Regardless of who was at fault, he couldn't stand to think of her hurting like that.

It wasn't a solution; he knew that. But he said it anyway.

"Buy her flowers, man. Nice ones."


	4. Nothing Weird

"You goin' out again?" Mike asked as Raph was making his way toward the exit.

Raphael tensed, and then immediately forced himself to relax, hoping his brother didn't notice. "Yeah. Headin' over to Casey's," he answered in a carefully offhand way.

"Cool. Have fun," Mikey said, and Raph breathed a sigh of relief when his brother continued toward the half-pipe.

Technically, what he'd said was true. He _was_ going to Casey's, and if that lead others to make assumptions about who he was spending his time with, it wasn't _his_ fault… but his stomach flipped all the same.

It wasn't like he'd planned to keep things from his family—at first, if someone had asked him where he was going when he headed out, he'd said "Casey's" out of reflex, the same way Don would've said "April's" just because that's who he primarily spent his time with. But now Raph couldn't deny that he chose the wording deliberately, knowing that his brothers were less likely to want to tag along if they thought he was hanging out with Casey. And he didn't quite know why he cared so much, except that…well… it was different with April, just the two of them, and he had to admit he sorta liked it.

He liked to think that April felt the same way, because as far as he knew, she'd never told anyone else, either—except Casey, of course. And Casey was totally fine with it! So really, why should it matter if he never happened to mention it to the others? It wasn't like he was required to fill them in on every little thing he did in his free time.

It was completely innocent, after all.

* * *

April was on the phone when he arrived, but she waved him in, shrugging apologetically and then holding up five fingers to let him know she'd be a few minutes.

Since it seemed he was on his own for a bit, Raph headed straight for the refrigerator. As he was perusing the contents, he could hear bits and pieces of April's conversation, fading in and out as she paced up and down the hallway.

"Look, if you like him, just _call_ him. What's the worst that can happen?" Pause. "Well if he's really put off by you making the first move, he's probably not worth it anyway…" Her voice faded again for a minute when she reached the far end of the hall, and then grew louder again. "…Whatever you feel comfortable with. No. No, I—I don't think it matters how many days you wait. _Too needy?_ Robyn, you barely know each other! I don't think that's…"

Raph finished selecting a beverage, and moved on to the cupboard to check out the snack options. By the sound of April's voice on her next pass, the last of her patience was evaporating quickly.

"If he doesn't answer, just leave a voice mail. No, don't—why would you just hang up? If he has caller ID, he'll eventually figure out it was you, anyway." Pause. "Robyn, you do _not_ sound like a man on voice mail. No. In all the times you've left me messages, I've never once thought, 'who is this man pretending to be my sister?'" Another pause. "Then just keep it simple! Identify yourself, and ask him to call you back! It's not that hard."

Rummaging through the cupboard, Raph eventually selected some chips, and headed over to the couch. He flipped the TV on, but kept the volume low out of courtesy while April was still on the phone.

"Look, sis, just _call_ him. It doesn't make you desperate or clingy, it makes you outgoing and self-assured. I really have to go now, but let me know how it goes, okay? No! You're not boring me," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically at Raph as she walked by. "I just have company over." She veered into the kitchen, leaning against the table and tapping her foot restlessly. "It's Raphael. Right, Casey's friend, but technically he's a mutual friend. I knew Raph and his brothers before I knew Casey."

Raph could hear the conversation, but he wasn't really _listening_ up until he heard his own name.

"Well we've been hanging out more lately," she continued after a pause. Then April rolled her eyes once again, and said, "Of _course_ Casey knows about it. And just what are you suggesting?" Pause. "Yeah. No. Yeah, he's fine with it! …No. _No_. Robyn, I'm sure." Then she laughed, and turned aside a little so her face was hidden. "Well for one thing, I don't think I'm his type." She laughed again. "No, he's not _gay_. Just trust me—if you met him, you'd understand."

April continued talking, but Raph was too jolted by what he'd overheard to pay any further attention. April's sister thought they were… what? Messing around behind Casey's back? Jeezus. It was ridiculous! No, scratch that—April's response was better—it was _laughable_. Of course, he supposed to someone who didn't know the full situation, it might seem fishy, but seriously.

Raph snorted and shook his head, trying his best to put the whole scenario out of his mind. He turned his attention to the TV and popped a few chips in his mouth, and though moments ago it seemed like they'd hit the spot, now they just seemed dry and tasteless. He grimaced and pushed the bag aside, instead going for the can of soda and taking a long drink.

_Well for one thing, I don't think I'm his type._

He studied April discreetly while he was drinking. Just what the hell did she think his type was, anyway? Did she think he wasn't attracted to her specifically, or humans in general? He put his drink down and turned his eyes back to the TV, flipping channels slowly without really paying attention to what was on.

_Flip._ Maybe she assumed he and his brothers would only be attracted to females who were turtles, or who at least looked more… reptilian. _Flip._ But then again, she'd heard Mikey gushing over girls on TV all the time—his brother even had some posters in his room of bikini-clad women, and they didn't look the least bit reptilian. _Flip._ Still… Raph couldn't remember if _he'd_ ever expressed interest in women in April's presence. And certainly there was interest, if for no other reason than lack of other options. _Flip_. Who knew, maybe if there were female mutant turtles walking around, he'd find humans repulsive. Yet in spite of how different they looked from turtles, human women were still undeniably… female. He'd never really broken it down before, but when he thought about it, it wasn't the stuff Casey talked about, the tits and ass, that did it for him so much as the overall form—the softer lines, the delicate curve of a neck, or the taut, slender muscle of a thigh, lithe and powerful…

"Raph? What are you watching?"

Raph started upon hearing her voice so close to him, and realizing he hadn't changed the channel in a while, he hurriedly flipped it. "Uh, nothing," he said, "I was just channel surfing.'

"Oh," April said. "Because for a minute there, it looked like you were really into Project Runway."

"I'm not gay—as you pointed out," he said dryly.

April sighed and shook her head. "That's my sister for you. Always looking for drama. Like it's not possible for members of the opposite sex to just be friends—if they're not sleeping together, one of them _must_ be gay."

He flipped the channel again, pretending to study the new show while he took this in. April came around the couch and flopped down next to him.

"What? What is it?" she asked after a short stretch of silence.

"Huh? Nothin'."

"Raphael."

He turned to see knowing eyes fixed on his.

"What's wrong?"

He turned away again and fidgeted a little. If he insisted nothing was wrong, she might let it go, even if she knew he was lying. But… something in him had to know. "Do you think, um… I mean… is this, like, weird?" He risked a glance at her, and saw the usually smooth skin of her brow puckered in confusion.

"What, this? Right now? Frankly, yeah, it's a little weird."

"No, not this conversation," he said with a shake of his head. "I mean you 'n me, hangin' out by ourselves all the time."

She searched his eyes. "Why would that be weird? We're friends."

"Yeah but… do you think, um, anyone _else_ would think it's weird?"

April's eyebrows went up. "Besides my sister?"

"Well… yeah."

"Because if you couldn't tell, my sister's take on relationships is a little… skewed."

"Sure, but—"

"Raph," she said with a tone of authority. "What's this really about?"

His mouth opened, and then closed again.

"…Do I do something?" she asked hesitantly. "That makes you uncomfortable? Because if I do—"

"No!" he said quickly. Then he hesitated. "Well… unless you count that thing you do with your nose."

"That thing I… oh. You mean this?" April said, and she pulled the tip of her nose up with her finger and puffed out her cheeks in a respectable imitation of a pig, enhanced by some rather realistic grunting noises.

"Aaah, stop it!" Raph said, partially shielding his eyes. "You know nose stuff freaks me out!"

She laughed and resumed her normal appearance. "Right. I've gotten used to having _green_ friends with shells and tails and three fingers, but my nose still weirds you out."

He opened his mouth to counter that, when suddenly it clicked. _Green friends with shells and tails and three fingers…_ of course. He could be really dense sometimes. Before, when she'd said she wasn't his type, what she'd really meant was he wasn't _her_ type. She'd just been trying to spare his feelings. They were friends, in the same way he Casey were friends, because she simply wasn't attracted to him.

Suddenly, he felt a lot more relaxed. Nothin' weird about two buds hangin' out.

"Well noses just don't make sense!" Raphael said, smoothly picking up the thread of conversation. "I mean, _I_ can smell just fine without some random chunk of cartilage sticking out of my face."

"And I can _swim_ just fine without a shell!" April fired back.

They glared at each other, and then both of them busted out laughing.

"Guess we're both freaks, huh?" Raph said, still grinning.

"I'll go along with that," she answered with a smile. Then she sobered slightly, her eyes searching his. "So, we okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he answered easily, and snatched up the bag of chips he'd set aside earlier.

"Good," she said earnestly. "Because I really like hanging out with you."

At that, he choked a little on the chips he'd just shoved in his mouth. It still took him by surprise when she did that, spoke so easily and directly of what she was feeling without so much as a hint of embarrassment. Raph didn't know if it was a girl thing, or just an April thing, but no one else he knew was quite like that.

"Um, yeah, me too," he rasped when he'd recovered sufficiently from his coughing fit. And he did. It wasn't like hanging out with Casey, where they liked so many of the same things that compromise was rarely necessary, but in spite of the obvious differences in their character, hanging out with April was surprisingly easy. And refreshing, somehow.

She smiled at his response, and after a moment leaned over to shove his shoulder affectionately. "So then, what should we do tonight?"

Raphael scanned around for a moment, and then he plucked up the remote control and tossed it over to her. "Here, you pick," he said.

She caught it neatly, and then looked up at him, one eyebrow raised slightly. "That's it? You're just… giving me the remote? What's the catch?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged. "Feeling generous, I guess."

She eyed him dubiously. "Are you _sure_?"

"Yeah, go for it."

"Well then…" Her eyes darted over to him once as she pressed the channel button a few times, as if waiting for him to change his mind, and then she stopped on something that looked vaguely familiar. "Project Runway it is."

Raphael groaned dramatically, and then ducked when April threw a pillow at him. He came up grinning. "Hey, easy! I was just kidding!"

"Hope so, 'cause there's more where that came from," she said, holding another pillow up in ready-to-launch position.

Raph held up his hands in surrender. "No, hey, I'm done! I don't wanna be plush-pillowed to death."

"Wise choice—it's not a very 'ninja' way to go," April said as she lowered the pillow. "Anyway, you only have to endure it for a little while, the show's already half over. After that we can change the channel, or think of something else to do."

He agreed, with minimal grumbling, and even that was more for show than because he really cared. Truth was, he was feeling uncharacteristically agreeable at the moment—mellow, even—a state that was usually much more obtainable to him with the aid of alcohol, but he didn't give it any more than a passing thought.

He just sat back and enjoyed the company.


	5. First Blood

"Hey!"

April jumped. "What?"

"I don't believe you! The movie's barely started, and you're already playing with that thing!"

She lowered her phone. "I'm still watching! I just had to check on some things—"

Raph crossed his arms over his plastron. "Oh yeah? If you've been paying such close attention, then what's Rambo's first name?"

She blinked. "Um… Rocky?"

Raphael snorted and yanked her smartphone out of her hand. "That's what I thought. Now we had a deal—last time I helped you clean up an' rearrange the store, so tonight we're watching Rambo."

"But I—"

The turtle's eyes narrowed into a glare, and April sighed in surrender. "Fine," she said, "I'll pay attention, but just one question: what are the rest of my brain cells supposed to do while these two are occupied?"

"Oh puh-lease," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Like you only watch things that are deep and meaningful? Gimme a break."

"No, but I've seen enough bits and pieces of Rambo to know what it's about—the plot's just a flimsy justification for all the mindless slaughter and gore!"

"Well then since you already know all about it, I'm_ sure_ you know the first movie is based off a book."

April's brow furrowed. "Well… no."

"And I could be wrong on this one, but it seems like I've heard somewhere that plot is kind of a crucial element for a book. So maybe if you can get through some of the 'mindless slaughter and gore', you'll find it ain't so bad." He had her there, and he knew it—nerds like April and Don seemed to have a greater appreciation for movies if they knew they were books first. And okay, maybe the only reason _Raph_ knew it was based off of a book was because he'd heard Don say it once, but still…

"Okay, all right," she said. "From now on, Rambo gets my undivided attention."

"That's more like it," Raph said. "I'll just go back to the beginning here… I know you wouldn't want to miss anything." His eyes dared her to argue, and she sat mute and prim while he rewound the disc. The silence didn't last long, though… to the title screen, to be exact.

"First Blood?" April said, her brow knit in confusion. "I thought it was just called 'Rambo.'"

Raph shook his head. "No, the real title of the original is just First Blood."

"Is that the title of the book?"

"Um. Yeah," Raph said. In truth, he had no idea.

"Oh. Then the sequel's called Rambo?"

"Nope. Second one's called 'First Blood, Part Two.'"

April wrinkled her nose a little. "First Blood, Part Two? That doesn't make any sense."

Raph just shrugged.

"Well how many Rambo movies are there?"

"Four."

"What are the titles of the other ones?"

"Um. 'Rambo Three', and uh… 'Rambo,' I think."

"So the _last_ one is the one called just plain Rambo?"

"Yeah, I think so. An' that one only came out a few years back. Stallone's pretty ripped, for an old dude."

"Oh. So why didn't you ask me if I wanted to watch 'First Blood', since 'Rambo' is actually the fourth movie?"

"Cuz most people just say 'Rambo Four' for the fourth movie. Besides, if I said 'First Blood', you wouldn't a' had any clue what I was talking about."

April smiled. "Exactly. In which case I would've agreed to it much more easily."

* * *

Several beers, one bowl of popcorn, and uncounted M&M's later, the credits were rolling, and Raphael sat awaiting her verdict. True to her word, she had paid attention for the rest of the movie, but now that it was over she was strangely silent. And patience was not one of Raphael's strong points.

"Okay, let's hear it," he prompted.

He saw here forehead wrinkle a little in thought as she stared ahead at the TV, and then she turned to him and simply said, "It was… sad."

Raphael studied her eyes briefly, and then nodded.

"I mean, here's this highly skilled combat veteran, the last of his unit… a survivor. And yet when he returns to civilian life, he's treated as little more than a vagrant. A nuisance. Plus he's obviously suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. And yeah, okay, the whole one-man-army thing is pretty entertaining to watch—but even the fighting wasn't what I expected."

"How so?"

"I guess… I expected some sort of a noble cause. Like he'd be trying to save people or something. You know, the usual deal."

Raph nodded again. "You're prob'ly thinking of the second one. Or the third one." He thought for a moment. "Or really, any one but the first one."

"Maybe. But in this one, the only person he was trying to save was himself," she continued. "He was just trying to survive. And all of it was only because some narrow-minded prick took one look at him and decided he was worthless and therefore someone to bully. And then at the end…" April shook her head. "Well it was unexpected, let's just put it that way. The guy takes on an entire town, and when he finally catches the guy who started it all, he spares him and breaks down in tears over his memories of war." She looked over at him, wide-eyed with disbelief. "Rambo. _Crying_. And I actually felt bad for the guy!"

Raph was smiling now. "Tugged your heart strings a little, huh?"

"Well YES!"

"So you liked it."

"Surprisingly, I did. I mean, it wasn't Oscar-worthy or anything, but I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." She paused there, watching him. "Go ahead. You can say it."

"Say what?"

"You know. 'I told you so.'"

Raph shrugged, but he couldn't completely repress the beginnings of a smug smile. "Wasn't gonna say anything. But maybe you'll remember this next time you're skeptical about something I pick out."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be only too happy to remind me of it yourself," she said with a roll of her eyes. Then she let herself fall backward against the couch, stifling a yawn. "So what next? Are we going to spend our next three get-togethers watching the rest of them?"

"Nah. Unless you really want to. Not a big fan of the others. You know—too much mindless slaughter and gore."

April laughed, and then let her head flop sideways against the couch cushion to look at him with a lopsided smile on her face. "I thought that was a pro in your book."

"You'd think, right?" he said lightly. He plucked up the controller to stop the movie, but he could feel her eyes on him.

She sat forward slowly. "So, what's the real answer?"

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye without turning his head. "About what?"

"About why you don't care for the rest of the series?"

Raphael grimaced. "They're just… too much." He glanced at her again, and seeing the question on her face, he went on. "In the first one, Rambo's a real guy, yannow? He's good at what he does, but he's got his fair share a' handicaps. Then the other movies, he sorta becomes more like a, a superhero. Superhuman, maybe, and it just ain't the same anymore. Even his _knife_ is ridiculous by the third one. It's like they'd need kryptonite to stop him." Then he paused and looked at April, and something about the way she was watching him made him feel a bit self-conscious. He fidgeted. "I dunno. I guess I like it better when he's just a guy."

"John Rambo."

"Right. John Rambo," he agreed. And just the way she said the name, he knew she got it. The first name made him human. Without it, he was just another action hero.

When she continued to stare at him, he fidgeted again and said, "What is it? I got something in my teeth?"

"Hmm? No," she said with a quick shake of her head. Strangely, her cheeks had gone slightly pink. "Sorry, I just… you surprise me sometimes, that's all."

He must have looked a bit blank, because she took one glance at his face and began to elaborate.

"I mean, we've know each other for years, and I consider you, _all_ of you, friends. But lately I get the feeling that I don't know you as well as I thought I did. Like even now, I'm only just scratching the surface."

Raph looked away uncomfortably. "Well just don't scratch too hard. I ain't that deep." When he next dared to look over at her, her eyes were downcast, but there was just a hint of a knowing smile on her lips.

"Okay… then let me ask you something—did Nightwatcher have a first name?"

"What, like 'Raphael Nightwatcher'?" he said with a dry laugh.

"You know what I mean." She looked up at him, and this time he didn't look away.

Yeah. He knew. "No," he said evenly.

"Why not?"

"Because… it was better if people thought they'd need kryptonite."

April raised her eyebrows slightly. "And…?"

Damn, she was good. Master Splinter had nothing on April when it came to intuition. And to his surprise, Raphael found himself answering her. "It was better if… _I_ believed they'd need kryptonite. I mean, when I was Nightwatcher, I couldn't let myself think too much about what might happen, if I…" _Got hurt, got killed, exposed what I am and put my family in danger. _"…Messed up. It was just better, safer, if I blocked that stuff out, so I could stay focused. So once I put that armor on, that was it. Raphael might screw up." He gave a humorless laugh. "Hell, Raphael was _sure_ to screw up—but Nightwatcher was unstoppable."

She was watching his face again in that strange way again, intense and a little… sympathetic, maybe? He was just thinking of changing the subject to something a bit lighter when she said softly, "And yet, it's the Rambo who's 'just a guy' that you identify with."

He didn't really know what to say to that, so he just shrugged.

April held his eyes for another moment, and then smiled faintly. "Well anyway, I'm glad you made me watch this one." She flopped back against the couch again. "And I'm glad you're letting me skip the next three."

"Hey, what're friends for?" He got up to retrieve the movie from the DVD player, and brought the empty beer bottles into the kitchen. "You want me to, like, rinse these or anything?"

"Nah, go on home," she answered, waving him away as she put the popcorn bowl in the sink. "That'll just take a second."

"Okay. See ya next time then, I guess," he said as he made his way over to the window. "And uh, thanks for having me over."

"You're welcome," she smiled. "I'll call you."

He raised the window. "Tell Casey I said hey."

"I will. Oh! Raph, wait!"

He turned and watched as April snatched the DVD off the table and brought it over.

"Can't forget this," she said, holding it out to him.

"Right. Thanks." But when he tried to take it, she held fast. He glanced to her face, and found her green eyes already on him.

"Raphael…" she started, and then she faltered and looked down, her eyelashes throwing long shadows over her cheeks.

His initial confusion turned to something bordering on alarm when she hesitated like that, because April was usually so direct and articulate when she spoke, and if she was having that much saying it, it had to be bad, right? His throat went suddenly dry. "What? What is it?" he managed.

She dragged her eyes up to him, and Raph caught his breath in suspense.

"I… I just wanted you to know… I don't think you're a screw-up," she said, the last part coming out in a rush.

He blinked. "What?"

"Earlier, when you were, um, talking about Nightwatcher? And you said, um, you said Raphael was sure to screw up?" A delicate blush was spreading over her face as she spoke, but she forged on. "I know it's a little late, but… I just feel like I needed to tell you." She paused to take in a measured breath, and this time when she looked him in the eye and repeated the words, she seemed much more relaxed. "I don't think you're a screw-up."

Raph could only stare, and it took him a minute to register that she was probably waiting for some sort of response. Only he was still kind of dumbstruck, so all he said was, "Oh. Okay. Um, thanks."

"Sure," April said softly, and then, realizing she was still holding on to the movie, she abruptly let go and used her newly freed hand to tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She exhaled audibly. "Okay. Well, goodnight then." She glanced up at him once more, and flashed him a tentative but genuine smile.

"G'night," Raphael echoed, but instead of an answering smile, all he managed was an awkward little wave before vaulting out through the window. Once outside, he climbed swiftly up to the roof, and for a moment he just stood there, looking out over the city. Then, he began to run—because he had to do _something_…

And because for reasons he couldn't explain and didn't care to analyze, his heart was already pounding.


	6. Contact

Author's Note: _Thanks so much to those of you who left comments on the last chapter! This story has me inspired again lately, so I'm pleased to present another chapter. Enjoy! ~KT_

* * *

It was April who insisted they open Christmas gifts one at a time this year, round robin style. Raphael had no doubt Mikey would have preferred more of a free-for-all so he could tear through his pile all at once—though to his credit, he usually rejoiced loudly over every present, no matter how small. But April claimed it was more meaningful if they watched each gift as it was being opened, and as she and Casey were hosting this year, even Michelangelo had the grace not to argue.

Usually Raph didn't care what procedure was followed—the whole gift exchange tradition mostly seemed like a huge hassle to him. But this year, as he waited for April to get to his present, he sorta wished they were doing Mikey's method. Unlike years past, when he'd just given her something generically pleasing, this year he'd actually put thought into it. And now, every single person in the room was going to be watching her when she opened it, and he wasn't even sure if she'd like it—wasn't entirely sure it would even _work_. But risky or not, nothing else he'd considered had seemed quite right.

So with the soft white lights from the Christmas tree lending a warmth to the room that had nothing to do with the temperature, they continued around the circle—a pair of warm lounging slippers for Master Splinter from April, several large feathers Raph had pilfered from the zoo for Leo to make into pens, a bag of Don's favorite coffee from Mike… and then April's hand was reaching for _his_ present, a small flat box wrapped in plain newspaper.

She picked it up and read the name written in black marker on the wrapping. "From Raphael," she announced, favoring him with a smile as she tore the paper.

Raph ducked his head down at first, telling himself he didn't need to watch… but that didn't last long. The suspense was worse when he was staring down at his knee pads. By the time he looked up again she already had the paper off, and was removing the lid from the box. After a moment of studying its contents, April turned puzzled eyes to his.

"A business card for an art gallery?"

"Turn it over," Raph muttered.

She picked the small card up out of the box and flipped it over. Slowly, her expression changed from mild confusion to wide-eyed surprise.

"Well, what is it?" Mikey asked in an impatient tone that clearly said 'hey-can-we-move-this-thing-along'?

"I think it's… it's an Izzero, isn't it?" she said, turning to Raph for confirmation.

"A whattero?" piped Michelangelo.

April waited for Raph's nod before she answered. "It's a drawing—or a sketch, I guess, by this artist, Aldo Izzero. He's initialed it at the bottom," she added, peering in close.

Mike raised one brow ridge. "A sketch… on the back of an old business card? Wow. Awesome. You've really outdone yourself this time, Raphie-boy," he said in a flat voice.

April was still staring down at the card. "It's a sketch of Nightwatcher," she said quietly.

Now Mike was interested. "It is?" he said, getting up to see. April obligingly held out the box for him to look, but the turtle clearly wasn't impressed, and Raph understood why. The sketch was recognizable as Nightwatcher, but it was very simple, and very rough.

"That's not the gift," Raph said, finally catching April's eye. "That card was given to me a while ago as, uh, kind of an exchange. You bring it in to that gallery, and they'll… well I _think_ you'll be able to, yannow, redeem it. Or something."

"Redeem it?" She furrowed her brow and looked back down at the card, clearly trying hard to make sense of this. But _someone_ in the room had no trouble reading between the lines of his vague explanation.

"A while ago… as in, two years ago?" Leo said, giving him a shrewd look. "When I was in Costa Rica?"

Raphael didn't answer, but Don looked from Leo's face to Raph's, and his eyes narrowed. "You mean someone gave that to you when you were playing at being Batman. What was it, some sort of, of, payment for services rendered? Raph, you can't give that to her! It's probably stolen!"

"It ain't stolen."

"How do you know! You—"

"I know, cuz I watched him draw it," Raph said, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on him.

April was the first one to speak. "You've _met_ him?"

"Well, I mean, the name didn't mean anything to me at the time, but I knew he had to be either an artist or a dealer. I helped him recover some, uh, stolen property, an' he drew on the back of that card an' gave it to me. Said I could use it to get in touch with him."

Donatello shook his head. "But that doesn't make any sense. Why would he want you to get in touch with him?"

Raph shrugged. "Because he wanted to hire me."

"_Hire_ you?" Casey said with an amused smirk.

"Yeah. Well, hire Nightwatcher," he amended. "The guys he had guarding his shipments apparently weren't quite as formidable as he'd hoped. So after I helped him out, he said he'd pay me to make sure his future shipments didn't get, um, sidetracked. Course I turned 'im down," Raph said before Leo could voice a protest, "but he gave me that card an' told me to bring it in to the gallery if I changed my mind."

April flipped the card back to the printed side and studied it as she spoke. "I know this gallery, but I didn't know Izzero dealt with them—or with _any_ gallery. His showings are by invitation only, all sales private. In fact, although it's rumored he lives in New York, even people in the art world don't know that for sure. If I could somehow get an invite to one of his showings…" She looked up at Raph. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

"I don't know if it'll even work," he reminded her.

"A chance is all I need," April said with a look of determination as she carefully put the card away.

Mikey's foot was tapping restlessly by then, eager as he was to get to his next present— which was why Donatello received a particularly dirty look when he spoke up again.

"I still don't think you should risk it," Don said. "If this card links you to Nightwatcher…" He let the sentence hang unfinished, but it wasn't hard to catch his meaning.

"He's got a valid point," Leonardo said slowly. "There's no way to know what kind of message this is, what kind of reception you'd get for bringing it in."

"_If_ the artist even remembers it, and decides to honor it." April said. "But it's a risk I'm willing to take. A contact like this, for my little shop…"

Raph knew what she meant. She was working hard at trying to turn her store around, change it from a place people stumbled into to buy knickknacks, to a place people sought out to find treasures. He knew, and that's why he'd chosen to give her this. It was the best gift he could think to give her, even if it was a long shot.

Donatello, his mouth pressed into a flat line, darted a glance over to Splinter, who had been observing in silence. Raph caught the look and his temper flared—like it was Splinter's job to mediate _Christmas_? But before he could say anything, April beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize the gifts were up for deliberation this year," she said with a cutting look at Don. "Must've missed the memo."

At least Don had the decency to look contrite. "Look, I'm sorry. I'd just hate to see you get in any trouble over this," he said in a more humble tone.

April sighed. "I know—I know that, and I appreciate it. I'll be careful, but this is _my _gift," she said with a glance at Raphael. "_I_ get to decide what to do with it."

"Well then at least let me check into this place a little before you decide to go," Donatello said. "Make sure it's not an obvious front for something else."

To the best of Raph's knowledge, it was legit. He'd scoped it out prior to giving April the card, but it never hurt to let Donnie do his thing, so Raph kept his mouth shut.

"And I'll go with her," Casey said to Don. "Um, if you want," he added quickly at a shrinking look from April.

Raph smiled to himself. _Nice save, Case-man._ Offering April help was one thing, implying she _needed_ it was quite another.

But before April could respond to either offer, Michelangelo cut in. "GREAT, well I'm glad we got that all worked out! I'm sure the rest of the details can be finalized later, _after_ the rest of the presents—which hopefully won't require so much discussion," he said with a roll of his eyes.

April smiled at him. "Go ahead, Mikey. We're done."

Don didn't look completely satisfied, but he kept quiet, and Michelangelo certainly didn't need any additional encouragement. They continued around until the rest of the presents had been opened, and afterwards they all lingered over refills of drinks and second helpings of desserts. _This_ was the part of Christmas Raph liked—sitting there well fed and pleasantly buzzed, joking with Casey and ragging on Mikey, and adding commentary as Don, April, Leo, and Splinter play a new strategy game of Donatello's.

Though it was quite late when Master Splinter finally rose and said it was time to go home, it still felt like it was too soon.

The leaving was always hard. Leaving meant forsaking the cozy warmth of the apartment for the sobering lash of wind and snow, and a lair that somehow always seemed darker than they'd left it, even after they'd turned all the lights back on.

They said their goodbyes one by one, each in their own way—handshakes, fist bumps, hugs, bows, a kiss on the cheek, a punch on the arm… and then there was nothing left to do but _go_.

Raphael was gathering with his brothers to exit through the window in the kitchen when April touched him lightly on the arm and said, "Can I talk to you for a second, before you go?"

"Um, sure. Okay."

"Good. Wait here, I'll be right back," she said, and she strode off down the hallway.

Don and Leo shot him curious looks, but Raph just shrugged and said, "Guess I'll catch up." Mikey, who from what Raph could hear was actually _talking_ to the video game he'd stashed carefully in his backpack, didn't even seem to notice when Raphael stayed behind, and in moments it was just him and Casey left standing awkwardly in the kitchen. Fortunately April didn't keep him waiting long, emerging almost immediately from the bedroom carrying something small.

When she reached the kitchen, she gave Casey a cursory smile and said, "Can you give us a minute?"

Casey's eyebrows shot up, but he just shrugged and said, "Sure thing. I'll just, uh, take the garbage out."

April watched him gather up the trash bag and head out before turning back to Raph. Then she let out a measured breath as she looked down at the box in her hands, and when Raph followed her gaze down he realized it was _his_ box—the one he'd given her. Then their eyes met.

"Raphael…" she began, "You know how much this means to me—I really, really appreciate it, you know I do. But…"

She looked down again, and Raph's heart sank. _She's giving it back. She doesn't want it._

"…I feel like I should tell you… I think this could really be worth something. Worth some money, mean." Then she raised her eyes to his again, and studied him for a long moment. "Maybe… a _lot_ of money."

Okay, not quite what he'd expected. "What, that little scribble?"

"Well I'm not positive," she answered slowly, "But this artist is very exclusive about who he sells to, and very selective about _what_ he sells. In other words, everything I know of by this guy is a meticulously finished product. I'd be willing to bet a rough sketch is pretty rare… and then of course there's the subject matter. The right buyer might pay a lot of money for this."

He studied her face quietly, noticing for the first time how the sweater she was wearing enhanced the green of her eyes. "Is that what you want to do? Sell it?"

"No," she said without hesitation. "The art may be worth some money, but if I got even _one_ good contact out of this..." She shook her head and lowered her eyes. "But that wouldn't matter if you… I mean, if you wanted, I'd be happy to check around for you, see if there might be any interested parties."

_If __I__ wanted?_ "What's the point? I mean, unless _you're_ curious. It's yours; do what you want with it."

"Right, I know… But when you gave it to me, you probably didn't realize it might be of value, and I'd understand—I'd _more_ than understand—if you… I mean, Raph, _think_ of what this could mean for you and your family!"

Her eyes were on him, large and pleading, but he already knew the reality was nothing like the fairy tale she was envisioning for him. "I'm thinkin'," he said evenly. "I'm thinking maybe we'd be rich—but we'd still be stuck livin' in the sewers. I'm thinking we could afford the best medical care… long as we didn't set foot in a hospital. I'm thinking we could all quit our grueling nine-to-five jobs and live lives of leisure." He paused, holding her eyes as he waited for the point he was making to sink in. "I ain't sayin' all this to be noble or anything. It's just… money ain't the answer when you live outside the system."

She stared at him, searching his eyes without speaking. Finally she whispered, "Are you _sure_?" Then she held the box out to him—one last try, one last chance.

Raphael ignored it, and took a step backward. "Merry Christmas," he said softly. Then before she could respond he was out the window and gone, lost in a swirl of falling snow.


	7. Rain Check

"Yeah," Raphael said curtly into his phone. It was his standard greeting when anyone called him, unless it happened to be Master Splinter. According to his sensei, the only proper way to answer the phone was to politely say 'hello' even though thanks to such technological innovations as caller ID, and the fact that only like six people in the whole world even had his number, he always knew who was calling.

"_Hi Raph,"_ came April's voice over the phone.

"Hey. I was just about to head over. What's up?"

There was a soft sight from the other end. "_Actually, I'm glad I caught you before you left. I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I took a rain check for tonight. I'd love to kick back and relax for the evening, but I only just got done with the last of the inventory at the shop, and now I have a stack of bills waiting for me, not to mention tax season is just around the corner. I know it's early, but I like to at last get a start on them now so I don't feel so stressed later."_

"Oh. Uh… yeah, sure, don't worry about it."

"_Thanks,"_ she said, and the relief was clearly audible in her voice. _"We'll make it up soon, okay?"_

"Sure, no sweat."

"_Great. Have a good night, then."_

"You too. Uh, good luck with the, uh… whaddya call 'em again? Taah… taaaa…?"

"_Very funny,"_ April said, and Raph couldn't help but laugh at the bitterness in her tone. Least there was one benefit to living in the sewers. The only thing he knew about taxes was that they were a major pain in the ass.

"_You should pay __me__ taxes for all the grocery shopping and errands I do for you guys," _she continued.

Raphael laughed again. "We do pay you."

"In what, headaches?"

"Nah. We maintain your security system, and keep your neighborhood virtually Foot ninja free, not to mention keepin' you informed on which pizza joints to avoid. You'd be lost without us."

"_You guys__ don't maintain my security system, __Donny__ does, the Foot wouldn't give a damn about me if it weren't for my history with you, and I have Casey to use as a guinea pig for testing out new food joints. So things are still looking a little skewed from my end."_

"Ah. Yeah… I see your point. Don't got much cash, though. Can I just pay you in sexual favors?" he quipped, expecting a laugh of surprise at the very least.

"Funny, that's exactly what Mikey said," she retorted smoothly.

Caught off guard, it was Raphael who laughed, and April chuckled with him.

"_Bye, Raphael_," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice, and he couldn't help but respond with a smile of his own.

It wasn't until after he'd hung up the phone that his smile faded.

* * *

"Dude, what is _with_ you tonight?"

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I just kicked your shell _three times in a row_, here," Michelangelo said, gesturing at the TV screen.

Raph looked at the screen, which was still showing the smoldering wreckage of his fighter jet, and then turned back to his brother. "So? Ain't too surprising, as much time as you spend playing this game."

"I know _that_," Mike said with a roll of his eyes. "I am awesome at this game. What's surprising is you haven't punched me yet, or accused me of cheating, or thrown the controller down and stormed off! It's like you're on autopilot, or something, just hitting the buttons. Where's the fire? WHERE HAS ALL THE PASSION GONE?" Mike said, gesturing dramatically. Then he narrowed his eyes. "Are you playing another game behind my back?"

"What?! No! I guess I'm just… I dunno, maybe I'm just tired."

Mikey eyed him dubiously. "Tired, huh?"

Raph merely shrugged, but he knew that wasn't it. He'd just felt a little… weird… ever since April called. Distracted and somehow restless, with an unsettled feeling in his stomach that he couldn't even blame on one of Mike's experimental junk food combinations.

Mikey badgered him into playing a while longer, but when Don came wandering in, Raph convinced his brother to swap out with him and headed to his room. He wasn't tired, exactly… but he settled himself in his hammock anyway and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. At length he took out his shell cell, turning it in his hands indecisively. He shouldn't bother her… she was trying to get work done. Smart thing would be to let her do it, so next time they could hang out and she wouldn't have to worry about it. Exactly, that's exactly what he should do… but he didn't put the phone away.

Then again, he argued with himself, maybe she could _use _a break. She hadn't told him not to call, and it wasn't like they had to stay on the phone long… After another minute he squeezed the shell cell tightly in his hand; then he opened the phone, drew a deep breath, and hit the speed dial before he could talk himself out of it.

When April answered, the knot in his stomach loosened, and he eased out the breath he'd been holding.

"Hey. Sorry ta bother you, just thought I'd see how things were comin'."

"_It's no bother. Actually, you have good timing,"_ she said. _"I was just going to get up and make myself some tea before I get back to work. I got the bills paid, but I at least want to get a start on the taxes before I quit. Even if all I do is download the forms and get everything organized and in one place, I'll still feel like I accomplished something. So what've you been up to tonight?"_

He could hear noises in the background as she talked, cabinets banging, water running, and he could picture her in the kitchen filling the old ceramic kettle she favored, even though Donny had gotten her a new electric one for Christmas. She left that one out on the countertop for easy access, but he'd noticed that she still used the old one when his brothers weren't around.

"I, uh, played some video games with Mikey."

_"Oh, what did you play?"_

"Dogfighters on the GameStation. The new fighter jet one he got for Christmas."

"_Ah. I've never played that one—looks way too complicated. I guess I've always preferred the old school games, the ones you could just hit buttons on and have fun without having to put in hours of practice just to be able to play."_

"Oh yeah? Which ones do you like?"

"_You know, like Mario Brothers, stuff like that. I also like racing games, as long as they're pretty easy to play. And I am the queen of Street Fighter II."_

Raph smiled. "That's funny, cuz I'm actually the _king _of Street Fighter II."

"_Is that a challenge?"_ April said over the scream of the kettle.

"Nope. You said yourself you were queen, an' everyone knows the king is more powerful," he said with a smirk.

The kettle silenced abruptly, and he heard a slight gurgling as she poured the water. _"We'll see about that, shall we? Next time you come over, I'll hook up the old system."_

"Bring it on," he said.

A short while later, he reluctantly let her go to finish her stuff, feeling appreciably better. He wasn't much of a phone talker, normally—of course, he _lived_ with most of the people he knew, and he and Casey usually only stayed on the phone long enough to make plans or communicate essential information. He was surprised at how easy it was to talk on the phone with April—just as easy as sitting in the room with her, really, and he wondered why he hadn't occurred to him that he didn't always need to _see_ her to be able to talk to her. Then he grinned to himself, looking forward to their next meeting. Oh, he was going to trounce her at Street Fighter, all right. He knew Casey could beat her easily enough… and _Raph_ could beat Casey.

And he definitely needed a good win after the whole beer chugging fiasco.


	8. Freaked Out

Author's Note: _Just one term here that you might not be able to decipher from context. Thanks to BubblyShell22, Greshunkai, and Winnychan for corrections and suggestions. :)_

_Ito_ - Braided cord used to do a traditional Japanese wrap on the hilt of a weapon.

* * *

April had everything ready when Raphael arrived—game system hooked up, and two cushions side by side in front of the TV with a controller stretching to each one. She'd turned the game on once just to make sure it was working, but that was it. They'd both be going into it cold. Then they'd see who the _real_ Street Fighter champion was…

A light rap on the window signaled his arrival, and April eagerly went to open it, smiling as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Hey, you're right on time! I just finished—" she broke off abruptly, sucking in a breath when her eyes caught on the square of bandage taped to his upper arm—a bandage she could only assume had once been white. "Raph, you're bleeding!"

He followed the path of her eyes to his upper arm, rotating his shoulder a little to get a better look at it. "Oh, yeah," he said, as if he'd forgotten it was there. "Must've stretched it a bit on the way over. It'll be fine." Then he dropped his arm and looked up, grinning as he spied the setup in the other room. "Looks like everything's ready. You that eager to get your ass whooped?"

April gaped at him. "It'll be _fine_? You show up here bleeding, and that's all I get is 'it'll be fine'? I mean, were you guys out last night? Did you run into some sort of trouble? Did you—"

"April, relax! It's just a little souvenir from practice, no big deal."

"If it was no big deal you wouldn't be bleeding all over my kitchen!" she yelled, pointing down at a smattering of red droplets on the tile.

He glanced down at the floor, and then put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I'll clean it up! Just tell me where—"

_Seriously_? Did he seriously think this was about making a mess? "No, Raph, it's not—!" she broke off when she saw the bewilderment on his face, and forced herself to take a deep breath. Even after that she didn't trust herself to speak without yelling, so she wordlessly grabbed a clean kitchen towel out of a drawer and returned to place it over the blood-soaked bandage on his arm. "Hold this," she said, and he obeyed, clamping his other hand over the towel.

"Now come with me." Her tone brooked no argument, and he didn't so much as protest when she led him down the hall to the bathroom. She gestured for him to take a seat on the toilet and retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink, lips pursed as she quickly setting out all the materials she thought she might need before turning back to Raphael. Then she took another calming breath before saying more gently, "Okay, let's have a look."

He removed the towel slowly, eyeing her as if she was some rabid animal as he did so.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite," April snapped, annoyed. She peeled off the old bandage, most of which came away quite easily, saturated as it was. Underneath was a cut close to three inches long, held partially together with short strips of tape. The tape on one end, though, wasn't holding anything anymore, and that was where the new blood was coming from. April wet part of the kitchen towel in the sink. Why not? It was already ruined anyway. Then she peered in close and gently cleared away what she could of the blood without disturbing things too much.

Raphael held still as a rock under her hands, and perhaps because of their close proximity, it struck her that the comparison was appropriate in more ways than one. All of the turtles were in good shape, powerful and well-muscled, and she'd grown so used to the way they looked she hardly thought of it anymore. But up close, touching his arm like this, she was freshly aware of just how _big_ Raphael was, even compared to his brothers. Even compared to Casey, who was certainly no stranger to the weight room.

She gave herself a mental shake and refocused on the task at hand. A few more dabs with the towel, and she let out a relieved breath and looked up. "It's not too bad," she said.

"Imagine that," Raph muttered under his breath.

"Well it's not exactly a paper cut either!" she fired back, and he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut after that.

April was more than a little tempted to rip the remaining strips of tape off with a quick pull to each. Shouldn't hurt too much on such a _minor_ wound, right? But instead she forced herself to go slowly and gently, wetting each one to loosen it before easing it away. No sense in causing even more bleeding than there already was. Once she'd pulled away the final bit of tape, she studied the wound again and frowned. "You did have Donny look at this, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hm," she said thoughtfully. "I'm a little surprised he didn't tell you it needed stitches."

Raphael shifted a little, but said nothing.

She studied him suspiciously. "Raphael…"

The turtle's eyes darted up, and he fidgeted again. "He didn't say I _needed_ them…"

"But he recommended it." This time it wasn't a question. When Raph didn't answer, she shook her head and snorted. "If I had the materials, I'd sew you up myself right now just to punish you for being so, so pigheaded!"

"Hey, you said yourself it ain't that bad!" he defended.

"Well you're not going to _die_ or anything, but really, taping a cut like this? I mean, I know it's not about the pain, so why in the world wouldn't you just let him do it!?""

"It, uh, it just… it takes too long," he mumbled.

"_So_?"

"So, I would a' been late!"

"Late? Late for what?" she asked, exasperated.

He looked up, meeting her eyes without saying a word.

She stared back at him in confusion for a moment, and then it clicked. "This happened just this evening… before you came over here."

At his nod of confirmation, she pursed her lips and turned away, tucking her hair behind her ears before fishing the bottle of disinfectant out of the first aid kit. The she poured some of the betadine onto a few sterile gauze squares, and proceeded to clean the cut. Only then, when she was sure she could respond calmly, did she speak.

"Raphael, do me a favor?"

He looked up at her to show he was listening.

"Next time, if Donatello recommends some medical treatment, DO IT. Even if it interferes with really important plans, like a Streetfighter II face-off. Okay? I mean, I know I can get pretty competitive, but I promise you, if you called me up and said you were cut open and bleeding and needed stitches, I'd be okay with rescheduling."

"Um. Okay. Sure," he said somewhat sheepishly.

"Good." She went back to his shoulder, which was still bleeding lightly, and dried the skin on either side of the wound thoroughly. Then she picked up a box of butterfly strips and began applying them, pulling the edges of the cut together snugly. She knew even that amount of pressure had to hurt—she'd gotten a tiny cut on her finger last week chopping some vegetables, and that had hurt bad enough—but he didn't so much as flinch while she worked. "This is from a sword?" she asked quietly.

He grunted in a way that sort of sounded like "yeah."

She shook her head. "What ever happened to using blunted practice swords?"

"We do, a lot of the time. But it ain't the same. We gotta practice with the real thing, too—all of us—or it'd show in a real battle."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking, as she applied another strip. What he said made sense. Practice weapons were used for a reason; they _were_ safer—but the great majority of people who trained with weapons never had cause to use them in a real battle situation. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case with the turtles. Any small error, any slight hesitation or clumsiness in a real fight could have deadly consequences. And yet, she'd seen what Leo's katana could do to an enemy, seen first hand how cleanly the blades cut through muscle and sinew and even bone…

Suddenly her vision darkened a little as she stared at the cut, and her stomach churned sickeningly. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe deeply, regain control, but all she could think of was Leo's blade glinting as it slid across Raphael's shoulder, and how with just a _bit_ more pressure, there'd be no taping it back together.

"It was Leo you were sparring with?" she asked, her eyes still tightly closed.

"Right in one," he answered.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to open her eyes and apply another butterfly strip, though her hands weren't quite as steady as before. "Well he should be more careful."

Raphael laughed. "He is careful. I still have my arm, don't I?"

She straightened to her full height, slamming the box of butterfly strips down on the sink, and Raph's eyes snapped up in surprise. "That's _not_ funny!" She glared down at him, her heart pounding… and she knew she was only capable of two actions at the moment. So she yelled some more, in spite of the choking lump threatening to close her throat.

"Here I am, patching up a wound from a _sword_ for god's sake, and you're _laughing_ about how much worse it could've been?! I mean, can't you skip the macho guy bit for once and at least _pretend_ to take this seriously for five whole minutes? I just, I can't, I can't _take_ this right now!" She hurled the badly crunched box on the floor before turning on heel and storming out of the bathroom.

* * *

_Whoa._

For uncounted seconds after she left, that was all that was going through Raphael's head, and it was longer still before he had the presence of mind to close his gaping mouth and go after her. Now he understood the look of fear that sometimes flashed across Casey's face when it was time for him to go home after getting slightly banged up. But anger of this intensity had never been directed at _him_ before; that glare alone was practically enough to melt him back into a puddle of ooze on the bathroom tile.

He stepped out into the hall, glancing over toward the empty living room before turning the other way, towards her bedroom. As he got closer he heard noise coming from her room, but before he could get all the way there April emerged and started walking toward him, her face hard and her stride purposeful.

"Hey, I—" he started as she drew closer, but she blew right past him with barely a glance, and turned into the room on the other side of the hall that served as an exercise room. Raph followed cautiously, and when he reached the doorway he saw her kneeling next to the treadmill, putting on tennis shoes. Evidently she had already changed into shorts and an old T-shirt while she was in her room. When she was done tying the shoes, she stood and began pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

He stood in the doorway and waited for her to say something, or at least _look_ at him, and when neither of those things happened he said, "So um… taking a run?" It was a stupid question, but he had no idea what else to say.

"Right in one," she answered tartly without looking at him, and she stepped onto the treadmill and began pressing buttons on the control panel.

Raphael continued to stand there, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. It seemed like maybe he should just go, let her cool off in her own way—but on the other hand he really didn't want to leave her like this, not before they'd had a chance to talk. For maybe the first time in his life, he understood how his brothers probably felt when he got mad and took off on them without bothering to hear them out first. Thankfully, April saved him from having to make a choice. When she'd finished entering her settings, she sighed loudly and looked over at him.

"I just need ten minutes. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

The last part was clearly a plea, not an order, and he nodded, feeling relieved. "Uh, sure thing. Take your time." He definitely got that, the need to do something physical to blow off steam. He himself probably would've gone for something a little more… violent, but hey. To each their own.

April said nothing more, just put in some earphones, hit a button, and started running. He watched for a minute, studying the way she ran. She looked so intense, with her eyes forward and her mouth firmly set, and in spite of the brisk pace she'd chosen she appeared to be running well within herself. Her strides were quick and even, and he could see the taut line of her belly and the long muscles of her thighs flexing and stretching, flexing and stretching…

Gradually he became aware of a tingling warmth spreading through his body, an unmistakable rush of attraction that made his face flush hot and his mouth go dry, and Raph jerked back out of the doorway and turned to press himself against the wall outside, his heart beating wildly. _What the fuck?_ He shook his head fiercely and drew a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down. When that didn't work he bolted for the kitchen, scrupulously avoiding looking anywhere but straight ahead as he passed by the doorway.

_It was nothing, just a, a physical reaction_, he told himself as he walked. _Hell, I'm so hard up same thing prob'ly woulda happened from watching any random chick out for a jog, long as a little skin was showing. _Yep, that was it. He was a guy; he couldn't help it. Didn't have anything to do with _her_. And besides, just because they were friends didn't automatically make him oblivious to the fact that she—well, to her appearance…

By the time he got to the refrigerator Raphael had talked himself down enough to feel almost normal, and he knew exactly what he needed to get the rest of the way there. So he grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge, some pretzels out of the cabinet, and, as an afterthought, some spray cleaner from under the sink. He cleaned up the splotches of blood on the kitchen floor before going to sit on the couch, remembering just in time to withdraw his weapons and set them on the coffee table first—April was constantly warning him against poking holes in the couch with his sai, and he didn't need anymore strikes against him tonight.

He flipped on the TV and settled down to wait. She took longer than ten minutes, but not much longer, and before long he heard April coming down the hall. She passed through the living area on her way into the kitchen, still wearing her workout clothes, and got a glass of water before returning and sitting down on the couch next to Raph. He took that for a good sign, that she'd chosen to sit so close to him. Apparently the short run had done her good. She didn't look at him, though. She sat there, barefoot and bare-legged, with strands of hair falling loose from her ponytail, and sipped her water.

He glanced at her face, then held his breath as he looked _very_ quickly down at her legs… and exhaled in relief. Nothing happened. Well, nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. He risked another glance, a bit longer this time. _Nope, still nothing. Just legs. A fluke, like I thought._ He relaxed then, content to wait and drink his beer. When April had finished her water, she went back into the kitchen, and he heard the sound of the fridge opening and then the click of a bottle cap being removed. She returned with a beer for herself, and handed him a second one before sitting down again.

"Thanks," Raph said, accepting the cold bottle. He quickly finished the remainder of his first beer and set it aside. Then he looked over at her and said, "Feel better?"

"A little," April answered, staring expressionlessly at her bottle.

He observed her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't seem angry anymore, which was definitely an improvement, but something was still a little… off. "So. You wanna tell me what that was about?" he asked mildly.

She didn't speak right away, taking a slow drink and staring at the bottle some more before saying, "I guess I was just… scared," she said.

Raphael waited.

"I mean, I've long since come to accept that being friends with you guys means living with a certain amount of danger—sometimes a _lot_ of danger. And I know that means sometimes, you'll get hurt. But in my head, it's always the _bad_ guys I'm worried about. I guess I never thought… I never really stopped to think that I might have to worry about friendly fire, so to speak, and I just—"

"Freaked out," he finished for her.

"I did not 'freak out', I just overreacted a little."

He looked at her, eye ridges raised.

"…okay, a _lot_."

More staring, and finally she caved.

April sighed. "I freaked out," she admitted ruefully. Then she raised her eyes to his. "It was bad, huh?"

"Well let's put it this way—you're lucky I was already sitting on a toilet."

She laughed—a short, surprised little sound, but it was a start. Then her eyes drifted from his face to his arm. "How's your arm," she asked, nodding at the wound.

"It's—it hurts a little," he said honestly, only barely stopping himself from giving the standard 'it's fine' reply. It burned, actually, and he knew from many, many experiences that tomorrow it would probably hurt worse, but it was long habit for him to underplay anything that wasn't a serious threat to his health. April wouldn't get that, though. She hadn't grown up like he had, where cuts and bruises and hunger and cold were so much a part of daily life that they hardly deserved mention.

She nodded in response to his answer, but said nothing further about it.

Raphael hesitated, and then said, "It ain't just a… what did you call it? Macho guy thing?"

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Before, in the bathroom, when you said to cut out the joking. It ain't about bein' macho."

This time April leveled a look at _him_.

"Okay, okay," he conceded, "Maybe that's part of it. But that ain't the main thing. It's also kind of the way we have to do things. To, uh, cope. Sort of."

"Cope?"

"Yeah." He watched her face, hoping for some sign of understanding, but she just looked puzzled. He sighed. Of course she didn't get it, he sucked at explaining things. "Okay, um… you use knives to chop stuff sometimes, right? Vegetables, or whatever?"

She looked at him deadpan. "No, I use toothpicks."

Raph rolled his eyes. _Right, stupid question_. "Okay, well it's possible to, like, accidentally chop your finger off, right? Doing something as stupid as chopping carrots?"

"I guess".

"But you still do it, right?"

"Of course," she said.

"But why? You could lose a finger."

"Sure, but the risk is small. And unless you're a sucker for a challenge, spoons just don't work as well. But the vegetables don't fight back," she said with a look that clearly meant 'I know where you're going with this.' "And losing the finger is NOT the same as the possibility of losing an arm or a head."

"I know it's not the same," he said seriously. "I know—we _all_ know." He held her eyes. "But for us, training is just as routine as chopping vegetables. It's part of our lives. And if we sometimes joke about the possible dangers, it ain't because we don't _understand_ the reality of it, or because we don't believe it could really happen. It's because we _do_ understand. I've seen Leo cut people up, too," he said gently, and April swallowed visibly and looked down. "I've seen Mike's 'chucks pulverize bone, and Don's bo crack skulls." He paused. "But my brothers and I pick up our weapons every day and train with them. We can't be _afraid_ of that, any more than you can be afraid of chopping vegetables. Not if we want to live. And that's partly what we're doing when we joke about that stuff—reminding ourselves that the danger is real… but we're not afraid."

He shut up then, the silence hanging heavy between them as he waited for some sort of response, but all April did was stare at her beer bottle. When she did raise her eyes, it wasn't him she looked at—it was his weapons on the coffee table in front of them. Then she deliberately put her bottle aside, and slowly reached toward them.

Raphael stiffened involuntarily—even his brothers didn't touch his weapons without asking first. But before he could decide how to react, April froze and looked over at him, as if sensing his unease. "May I?" she asked, her fingers poised on the brink of touching the metal.

He could tell she was asking to be polite, never thinking that he might say no. Raph hesitated for a mere heartbeat, and then nodded stiffly. It wasn't like he really had a reason to refuse her, but it made him uncomfortable all the same.

She picked up one sai with almost absurd delicacy and began examining it up close, turning it over in her hands and tracing each part as she looked. "What is this, leather?" she asked without looking up as she touched the hilt.

"Leather," he confirmed, and when she peered even closer to study the wrap job, he said, "It ain't all fancy, like the way Leo does it, but he uses silk _ito_, which lasts longer. I gotta redo mine pretty frequently, so I just do a basic wrap." He didn't know why he felt the need to defend his choice… why should she care what style of wrap he did? Still, he wasn't used to his personal weapons being the object of such close scrutiny.

"Then why do you use leather, if it doesn't last as long?" she asked quietly.

"I just… like the feel of it better."

This time she turned to meet his eyes, but he couldn't read anything in her expression. "Why?"

Raphael shifted a little. "Um…" Her eyes were fixed on his, curious but undemanding, and though he had no idea why she cared, he answered truthfully. "The leather feels… more friendly," he said. Then he reached out and picked up the other sai, holding the _tsuka_ in a familiar grip. "It warms quickly, and seems to mold slightly to my grip, and it feels… more like part of _me_ than a weapon." He flipped his grip in one smooth motion, so the _tsukagashira,_ the butt of the handle, was facing outward. Then he whirled it almost carelessly and switched his grip again, this time to a defensive hold.

She watched him handle his weapon, and then turned back to continue studying the one she held. Her fingers moved over the slightly curved outer _yoku_, and then she ran a couple of fingers all the way down the rounded central _monouchi_, finishing at the point.

Raph watched her hands move down the weapon. "If you're gonna handle my shaft like that, I hope you're at least plannin' on buying me dinner later," he quipped.

She looked up and smiled, taking it as a joke—which of course it _was_… sort of. _It's just a weapon—just steel and leather_, _nothin' special about it_, he told himself. Still, they were so much a part of him it almost felt like she was touching him directly, and he just couldn't seem to will his body to relax. The truth was, part of him wanted to snatch it away from her.

_Jeezus, get a grip Gollum_, he told himself. _She ain't gonna hurt it. _April was in a strange mood right now, obviously trying to sort some things out, and though he had no idea why she was suddenly so interested in his sai, he decided to just go along with it.

April had turned back to his sai and tested the point again. Then her eyebrows knit together slightly. "Tranditional sai are blunted at the end, right?"

"Usually," he answered. This time he didn't wait for the follow up question. "I find it a more versatile this way," he said with a shrug.

"And more deadly."

"That too," he admitted. He watched her closely, but she didn't react much, at least outwardly. He was relieved when she switched to a different topic instead of pursuing that line of inquiry.

"Did you guys get to choose your weapons?"

"No. Technically Master Splinter assigned them, but he always insisted he just let the weapons choose _us_." Raph smiled a little, remembering. "We practiced equally with all the weapons when we were young, and gradually it became clear which ones we were most compatible with."

"So these sai chose you."

"I guess so." And then, without thinking he said, "But I didn't choose them. Not at first."

Her eyes flashed up to his. "You didn't? Well what did you pick?"

Raph returned her gaze evenly. "You know."

She looked down, and ran a finger down the central shaft again. "Katana," she whispered.

"Close enough. I actually would've picked ninjaken, but when my _honorable_ older brother was assigned swords, of course he went with katana."

"Were you as skilled as he was with blades?"

"Of course not," Raph said with a snort. Even then, he hadn't been that delusional. "But I didn't care. Leo and I both had a picture in our heads of swords as the ultimate badass ninja weapon."

April stared at the weapon she held and said, "Maybe. Or else they're just overcompensation." She extended her hand a couple feet beyond the tip of the sai to demonstrate, and glanced up at him with an impish smile.

Raphael laughed loudly, and April's smile widened into a grin.

"Guess Master Splinter knew what he was doin' after all," Raph said, still smiling.

"I think he did," April said, and she was smiling as well, but her eyes were serious. "I think these weapons suit you, Raphael. They're _like _you, somehow."

He looked down at the sai he held, tilting it to watch the shards of light slide along the muted steel, trying to see it as she did. "If you say so," he said with a shrug. When he looked up, he found her eyes already on him.

She looked at him for a long moment, and then held the weapon out to him handle first, cradling it almost reverently in both hands. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded, though he didn't know what she was thanking him for, and accepted the sai. The _tsuka_ was still warm from her hands. Raphael closed his own hand over the grip, and the tension slowly drained from his muscles.

She drew a deep breath, in then out, and glanced toward the cushions and game controllers at ready in front of the TV. "I'm not exactly in the mood for Street Fighter anymore. Would you mind too much if we did it another time?"

"Sure, whatever you want."

"I guess I owe you dinner, so what if we just order pizza and hang out? Are you hungry?"

"That's not a relevant question when it comes to pizza," Raph said.

"Of course not," she said with a roll of her eyes. "What was I thinking?"

She called in their order, and once she was off the phone she said, "While we're waiting, at least let me put a wrap on your arm. No yelling this time; I promise," she said, correctly interpreting the look on his face. "I just don't want it to pull apart on your way home and start bleeding all over again."

So Raphael allowed himself to be led back into the bathroom, and took a seat on the toilet. _Total déjà vu_, he thought, but at least April was back to her usual calm efficiency, no yelling or throwing things this time.

She took another look at the wound again before she did anything else. "There's some dried blood gunked up on this, but I don't want to disturb the clot so I'm just going to leave it. At least the tape seems to be holding," she said, pressing the edges gently. "I was just about done when I… left, before, but I'll just add a couple more strips for good measure and then put on a loose wrap to protect it."

"Sounds good," he said, but he was barely aware of what she was saying. What he _was_ aware of was the touch of her hands on his arm. As gentle as she was trying to be, the edges of the cut were even more tender now, and there was some pain involved, but that wasn't what was making his breath catch, or his heart speed up. Somehow, as he watched her hands on his shoulder, all he could think of was they way she'd handled his sai earlier, and the warmth of the grip when she'd handed it back.

Suddenly it felt way too warm in the small room, and he broke out in a light sweat. _It's the bright lights, and two warm bodies in such a small space_, he told himself, but all that reasoning did was remind him how very _near_ April was as she bent over his arm. The very air seemed thicker somehow when he next drew a breath, and part of him wanted to bolt out of there, to escape, to stand on the rooftop and let the cold wind fill his lungs, erase the memory of her touch…

But he didn't move—_couldn't_ move, as long as her hands were on him.

"I'm sorry, am I hurting you?"

His head snapped up. "What?"

Her green eyes were already on his face, searching. "You sort of… tensed up. I was trying to be gentle, but I guess it probably still hurts."

He looked at her, really _looked_ at her then, taking in the messy hair pulled back in a careless ponytail, her skin, pale and completely devoid of any makeup, the faint shadows under her eyes, her slightly chapped lips, and finally her eyes—clear, warm, full of intelligence and concern and, and _life_… and all at once his heart clenched so tight he could hardly breathe.

"Oh yeah," he rasped with his eyes still on her face. "It hurts."

_I am in such deep shit._


	9. The Bottom Line

_Breathe! Just breathe, dammit! _ Raph thought, but those breaths he did manage were quick, shallow things, insufficient for the oxygen he so desperately needed.

"Sorry, I'm almost done. I'll—Raph?" April's forehead furrowed in concern as she peered more closely at his face. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I think… maybe I need some air," Raphael said in the same half-choked voice. He couldn't think, couldn't process anything right now, and apparently he looked as close to puking as he felt because she didn't even attempt to delay him with questions about what was wrong.

"Go. Get some air," she said, and stepped aside as he practically launched himself out of the bathroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

He threw open the window and floundered out onto the fire escape, catching the railing in both hands to anchor himself as he sucked in breath after breath of cold air. The nausea passed quickly, but even when he was no longer in danger of hurling, he was far from okay. His stomach was a jumble of knots that tightened every time his mind slipped back to the way he'd felt when he'd looked at her, and when he removed one hand from the railing and held it in front of his face, it was trembling visibly.

"Fuck," he said out loud, flapping his hand as if he could shake the tremors away. When that didn't work, he impulsively vaulted up onto the railing and from there leapt up to the landing of the fire escape above him. Two more bounds and he was on the roof. Once there, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to jump across to the next one, and then the next. He was three rooftops away, and about to make it four, when a twinge of pain in his injured arm snapped him back to reality.

He halted and glanced at the cut, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the tape was still holding, and then looked around him. _What the hell am I doing? _He'd gone into flight mode, as if putting some distance between them would somehow make this go away… but rationally he knew running off wasn't gonna help. Distance couldn't erase the way his pulse had quickened when she'd touched him, or the way he'd felt both terribly ill and painfully alive just from looking at her. But more importantly, April was probably already wondering what was taking him so long; just disappearing like this might make her start asking questions he didn't want to answer. And right now, even confused as he was, there was one thing he was absolutely sure of—

No one could ever, _ever_ know about this.

So he had to go back—at least long enough to give some excuse and go home. Then he'd have some time to think about this, figure out what he was going to do. Whatever this was, he knew he couldn't explain it away as mere physical attraction… but still, maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe it was just a, a crush! Having a crush on his best friend's girlfriend would still make him an asshole, but a crush was something you got over, right?

_Not always,_ answered some inner voice, and his knotted stomach cinched tight again as he thought about his brother Donatello, and the way he looked at April sometimes with those pained, wistful eyes. _Oh god, is this what he feels like when he's around her? And when he sees her with Casey… _At that thought the nausea returned full force, and Raph actually sank into a crouch on the gravel of the rooftop, bracing himself with one arm while pressing the other over his abdomen, his breathing coming almost raggedly. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!_

He tried desperately to banish those thoughts—he didn't have time for this. Right now he had to do whatever it took to pull himself together and go back to her apartment. His breathing began to slow a little, and when his stomach had settled somewhat he rose again and turned around to retrace his steps, this time mindful of his injured arm. If it started bleeding again, he might just have to reconsider the "run away" option rather than face April's wrath.

When he reached the fire escape again, he saw April on the landing below with her coat on, ready to head up the stairs. Her face smoothed in relief when she saw him. "Hey, I was just coming up to see if you were okay. Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Um, no. Can't hear much up there with the wind," he lied. He paused and stared down, trying to adjust to this new strange way of seeing her, like a filter had been removed from his eyes. It was still April… but now he saw every nuance, every movement, every change in expression like he never had before, and it made his chest ache anew.

"So… are you coming back in?" she asked, and Raph swallowed hard and started down the stairs. When she saw he was coming, she retreated back inside, and Raphael followed her through the window.

Once they were both inside she turned to him with concerned eyes. "So what was that all about? Are you feeling any better?"

"I dunno, I just… suddenly felt sick." That last part at least was true. "Feeling a little better now, but still sorta weird. Thinkin' maybe I should just head home, in case I'm coming down with something."

Her brow furrowed and she stepped forward, reaching out with one hand towards his face…

Raph reflexively jerked back out of her reach, his mouth gone suddenly dry again.

She paused with her hand still in the air, eyebrows raised. "Relax—I'm just checking to see if you have a fever." She didn't wait for him to respond, but reached forward again and laid a wrist across his forehead.

Raph closed his eyes when he felt her hand upon him, trying to stay calm and just concentrate on his breathing, but he wasn't able to draw a full, normal breath until her hand withdrew. He opened his eyes.

"Hm. You do feel a _little_ warm… it seems kind of early to be showing signs of infection from your arm, but maybe you should check with Donny when you get home, see if he wants to put you on some antibiotics just in case. In the meantime… I'd really feel better if you'd stay here for a while, maybe get something besides beer in your stomach and see if you feel any better before you go leaping across rooftops."

"I don't think—"

"_Please_, Raphael—I'd be worried about you if you left like this. Just stay for a little while. Please?"

He knew he should refuse, tell her he would go the safer underground route and just get the hell out of here… but there she was, looking at him with big pleading eyes, waiting for an answer, and when he finally spoke, the wrong words came out. "Um… I guess I could. For a little while."

She exhaled and smiled a little. "Good. Go sit down; I'll get you some water."

The pizza arrived a short time later, and Raph even managed to choke some down, having refused April's offer to make him something a little easier to digest. Yup, a typical relaxing evening, just two friends eating pizza and hangin' out… yeah. All except for the 'relaxing' part. Raph didn't know if he'd ever be able to relax around her again. He couldn't stop looking at her, stealing quick glances while she was watching TV and then looking away again just as swiftly, feeling as guilty as if he was watching her undress. He envied the Raphael from an hour ago, joking and talking with her with such casual ease. God, if only he could go back to that…

The only upswing he could find in this whole screwed up scenario was that it was destined to remain completely one-sided. This, this crush, or whatever it was, was something he had to deal with, but at least there was no risk of reciprocation—he had no delusions about that.

"How're you feeling?" April asked, breaking into his thoughts as the TV show they had on came to an end.

"Okay, I guess."

"Good." She paused, watching him, and then said, "Hey… Raph? When you were explaining before about practicing with real weapons, and the joking, and about… not being afraid? I just wanted to tell you, I get it. I feel kind of dumb that I even needed you to spell it out for me, but I'm glad you did. I guess I needed a reality check."

Raph shrugged. "No big deal."

She gave a quick smile, and then turned to gaze absently at the TV, looking rather thoughtful. "It's weird, isn't it?" she said after a short silence. "We couldn't BE more different from each other, right? I mean, just look at us! And yet sometimes when I'm sitting here with you… or Leo or Don or Mikey, I just… forget."

April turned to him again, her eyes seeking his, and all he could do was stare back into them, his breath locked in his chest and his heart beating painfully. "Yeah, that's… weird," he managed finally.

She held his eyes a few seconds longer, and then abruptly broke eye contact, turning away and tucking some loose strands of hair back behind her ears. "Anyway, did you, um… are you done?" she asked with a vague wave at the pizza box.

"Uh, yeah. I'm done."

"Okay, then I guess I'll just… start clearing things up," she said, fumbling a little as she began gathering up the napkins and plates.

After helping her clean up, and assuring her again that he was feeling better, Raph left—and made it as far as the rooftop again before sinking weakly down against the side of the stairwell, drinking in the cold air as if he'd just sprinted across the city. He felt drained, exhausted, like he really had been ill, but at least he'd made it out of there before collapsing.

_We couldn't BE more different from each other, right? I mean, just look at us! And yet sometimes when I'm sitting here with you… I just… forget._

_Oh god._ He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as he waited for the aching pressure in his chest to subside. Why, _why_ hadn't he left earlier as he'd planned? He had enough to deal with as it was, and now this on top of it… Every time her words replayed in his head it was like someone had taken a two-by-four to his plastron, but that wasn't even the worst part. Raph didn't know what horrified him more—what she'd said, or the tiny spark of hope that had flared in him when she said it.

* * *

It was hours before he headed home.

Usually when Raph had something on his mind, it was action he craved—running, fighting, lifting weights, whatever. But right now he mostly just felt… tired. There were other things, too—confusion, guilt, anger… but all muffled under a heavy layer of fatigue. So he wasn't in the mood for most of his usual pastimes, but he didn't want to go home yet, either. In truth, what he wanted was a good stiff drink. And as soon as he felt like his legs could handle it, he pulled himself up to go get one.

Years ago, when he'd been in the thick of his Nightwatcher obsession, a close call one night had lead to the creation of emergency caches hidden at various locations around the city. That way if it wasn't safe to go home, or if he couldn't _make_ it home, he'd at least have access to a few necessities. Most of them just consisted of a basic first aid kit, a couple of blankets, and some food and water. Even when he retired as Nightwatcher, though, he'd left his caches as they were—never knew when something like that could come in handy. A couple of them he'd even expanded, using them to store things he didn't feel comfortable keeping at the lair… and it just so happened that one of them was nearby.

When he reached the rooftop where his stash was located, he selected a well-depleted bottle of rum, and as an afterthought grabbed a heavy blanket, itchy but warm. He also kept an assortment of confiscated weapons there that he was sure Master Splinter wouldn't approve of, and some emergency cash, also confiscated, but he left those untouched and went in search of a more scenic spot to sit for a while. He didn't have a destination in mind, really, but just kept on until the buildings stopped and he found himself staring down at the dark void of Central Park.

He'd been to the park many times before, of course, but it had never really been a big draw for him. The area was pretty heavily patrolled, and the 1:00 am curfew strictly enforced, so even as Nightwatcher his time had been better spent elsewhere. Mike and Leo came here more, though he doubted it was for the same reasons. Raph was pretty sure Leonardo came to bond with the trees like some goddamn elf, since he'd practically _lived_ in them in Costa Rica, but Mikey… well if he had to guess, he'd say Mikey was drawn to the people. Even at night in the warmer weather there were plenty of them—walkers, joggers, people taking carriage rides—but unlike on the streets of the city, where they could "escape" into a building at any given moment, people in the park were completely out in the open, their every word and movement exposed for anyone who cared to take notice.

Raph understood the whole people-watching thing—before they'd been allowed to explore the city from _above_ street level, almost everything they'd known about humans had come from TV and magazines, and it hadn't take them long to figure out it was very different from how people actually lived. So they'd watched. Even from the beginning Raph had been drawn more the city's shadier denizens, the people who hung out in the shadows, who flaunted the rules and spoke mostly in street slang. But Michelangelo had liked to watch people engaged in more wholesome activities—families picnicking, kids skating, frisbees flying… and Central Park before dark was full of them.

Raphael paused on the rooftop, considering briefly, then decided this was as good a place as any for his purpose. He made his way to a corner of the roof a little more sheltered from the wind and sat down, pulling the blanket around his shoulders before taking a quick pull from the bottle. He grimaced at the taste, but the liquor burned satisfyingly going down and settled warmly in his stomach. There wasn't much to see below him—just the tops of trees and a couple of dimly lit pathways, and one lone couple seemingly oblivious to the cold as they walked hand in hand into the park.

Raph watched them for a time, finally turning away when they stopped to share a leisurely kiss by a park bench. Couples—no matter where he looked in the city, it was always couples. He took another swig from the bottle and swung his gaze out across to the skyscrapers that formed the other wall of the chasm below, making the park look like a sanctuary of stillness and silence in the otherwise lurid city.

Raphael had never quite understood the human obsession with finding The One. He had a family, and a few friends—plenty of companionship. Of course he'd fantasized often enough about being with a woman… just not being in a _relationship_ with one. Even hanging around April and Casey after they started dating hadn't changed the way he felt. Frankly, a full-time relationship seemed like a lot of work… and the "romance" part? The holding hands, sharing food, walking around oblivious to everything, stealing kisses in the moonlight… Seriously, did any guy actually _want_ to do that stuff—well, besides the kissing part?

Maybe that was why he hadn't seen it coming with April—being with her was just so, so _easy_. It didn't feel anything like what he thought of as romance… which was partly why all of this was so confusing. He took another drink, hoping the rum would help silence the rabble of thoughts jostling in his head_. How the hell did this happen? What does it mean? And just what the fuck am I supposed to __do__ about it?_

Raph didn't know if the drink had anything to do with or not, but after a time things did begin to crystallize; among all the thoughts clamoring for attention, one sobering fact eventually eclipsed them all. When it came down to it, it didn't matter that he'd somehow developed feelings for April. It didn't matter what it meant, or exactly how it had happened… it didn't even matter if she'd really meant what she said about sometimes forgetting how different they were. There was only one thing that actually mattered—

_She's Casey's girlfriend._

That was it; that was the bottom line. Casey was his friend—hell, friend wasn't even the right word, really. _Brother_ would be closer, though that wasn't a perfect fit either since he was pretty sure nothing could ever match the bond he felt with his real brothers. But the label didn't matter. What mattered was he couldn't do anything to betray Casey. Ever.

Which meant that no matter how far-fetched, how absurd, how _insane_ it might seem that there was any risk of things going further, he couldn't take any chances. Even realizing he'd developed this, this crush on April made him practically sick with guilt, and it wasn't like he'd _meant_ for it to happen, or even had any idea where things were leading. If he had, he would've… well of _course_ he would've stopped hanging out with her!

But now… just the thought cutting her off like that made his chest squeeze tight. _It ain't like I'd never see her,_ he told himself. _She's part of our family—there'll be holidays, movie nights, and she'll come down to the lair sometimes, just like before. _But that didn't make him feel any better, didn't make it any easier to breathe. And it occurred to him that _she_ might not take it very well, either, if he just suddenly stopped coming over. She'd know there was something wrong then, and April was nothing if not persistent when it came to getting answers.

Maybe he could just… leave things the way they were, play it cool and wait for this to blow over... but then her words from earlier came back to him once again.

_Sometimes when I'm sitting here with you… I just… forget._

His stomach twisted, and he pressed the palm of his free hand hard against his forehead. "Fuck fuck _fuck_," he growled out loud. He took another drink, upending the bottle completely, but only a trickle came out. "FUCK!" he yelled, and hurled the empty bottle with all of his strength out into the void. There was a sharp crack and a tinkling of shattered glass when it hit the street below. The couple in the park, now sitting _on_ the bench and kissing, didn't even look up.

It was no good; he couldn't do it. Even if he tried to act normal he'd fail miserably, and she'd know something was wrong—and the same thing would happen if he just quit seeing her altogether. Either way, he was screwed. But maybe… maybe he could just sort of… back off, little by little. He could play it like he was just losing interest. He felt sick inside, imagining how that would hurt her. Hell, she might not even _buy_ it… but he didn't know what else he could do. At least this way, when he dodged her inevitable questions about what was going on, there was a good chance she would form her own conclusions and take his silence as reluctance to hurt her feelings.

_No. No way, I can't do it_, he thought as he imagined her reaction, her face when she connected the dots. He rocked forward, this time pressing both hands to his forehead. There had to be another way, there had to… be…

_She's Casey's girlfriend._

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, breathing heavily, and then swallowed hard. After a time he managed to take a deeper breath, slowly in and out, willing himself to relax. It took some time before his muscles actually obeyed, but he couldn't control the goosebumps that prickled across his skin in spite of the blanket he wore. _I have to. I have to do it. _At that moment he really regretted his decision to go with the rum; the small amount left in the bottle had been good for a buzz, but right now it was oblivion he was thirsty for.

He was still sitting there trying to gather himself when his shell cell buzzed. Raph rubbed his eyes wearily and pulled the phone out of his belt, scanning the caller ID. _Casey_.Not exactly who he wanted to talk to right now.

He answered anyway.

"Yeah," he said, but his usual brusque greeting came out as more of a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah."

"_Look man, we gotta talk_," Casey said without preamble.

Instantly Raph's heart sped up. _Casey_ wanted to _talk_? What if he…? But no, that was absurd. There was no way he could know anything; it was just Raph's guilty conscience talking. _Be cool, just be cool._ "Um, sure," he said with attempted nonchalance. "What's up?"

"_I know you 'n April have been havin' fun lately an' everything, and I'm cool with that, but apparently we gotta lay down some ground rules."_

His heart skipped a beat. "Ground rules? What—?"

"_An' I gotta be straight with you—I don't think I should even have to __say__ this to my best friend_."

Raph was in full panic mode now. _Fuck me. He knows. I got no idea how, but he knows._ He broke out in a sweat, feeling light-headed and quite incapable of formulating a coherent response. Fortunately Casey didn't seem to expect one, and he just forged ahead while Raph listened, dry-mouthed.

"_But apparently I do, so I'll just spell it out for you: when my __girlfriend__ finally agrees to watch Rambo, or any other hard-core action flick, I damn well better be included!"_

"Wh-what?" Raph croaked.

"_YOU GUYS WATCHED RAMBO WITHOUT ME!_"

Suddenly, although he could still hear his heart pounding in his temples, the vise gripping his chest loosened, and Raphael breathed in sweet air.

"_For years I been tryin' to get her to watch it with me! YEARS!_" Casey raged on, "_And finally she watches it with MY BEST BUDDY and I'm not even there! Wasn't even told about it until WAY after the fact!_"

"S-sorry, man, I, I didn't know!" Raph sputtered, struggling to re-adjust now that he knew the real problem. And it wasn't until after he'd said the words that wondered why that was. _I didn't know—_s_he never told me. _It seemed a little… odd. If Casey had been trying as long as he said to get April to watch Rambo, how come she'd never mentioned it when Raph picked the very same movie? And… how come she hadn't told Casey they'd watched it at all until tonight? But he didn't say any of that to Casey. "Look, you're right, I shoulda' thought of it. I swear, if we make plans to watch any more action movies, I'll make sure you're there."

He could hear Casey breathing over the phone, and he just waited, hoping it meant he was cooling off. Apparently he was, because next time he spoke his voice sounded more normal, both in tone and volume. "_Yeah… okay. That's all I wanted to hear. Uh. Sorry for, y'know, jumping on you like that."_

"Hey, it's Rambo. I get it," Raph answered.

There was a pause over the phone, and then Casey said, "_So…_ _how'd you get her to go for it, anyway?_"

"I uh, helped her in the shop."

"_That's it? I've helped her in the shop a million times!_"

_Not lately, though, according to April, _Raph thought. But all he said was, "I don't know what to tell ya."

There was a slight sigh on the other end. "_It's okay—least I guilted her into watching the rest of 'em with me. You can get in on that too, if ya want. Make it a threesome._"

Raph's stomach churned at the very thought. "Um, thanks, but it's okay. I hogged the first one, so you two enjoy."

"_Okay. Well if you change your mind.._."

"I'll call you," Raph agreed, but he knew he wouldn't.

A short while later they hung up, and once again Raph leaned back and closed his eyes. If he'd felt wrung out before, it was nothing to how he felt now. Plus the phone call had effectively killed his buzz, so he had to face the trip home dead sober—not a pleasant prospect. He sat a while longer, but without the burn of the liquor even the blanket didn't keep the chill out for long. Reluctantly he pulled himself up, casting his gaze downward one last time before turning for home. What he could see of the park was empty now; no doubt the couple from the bench had gone in search of someplace warmer to continue their activities…

And for once it wasn't just the physical part Raphael envied.


	10. Distraction

He awoke to warmth, all around him—and it might've been stifling if not for the contentment he felt, the complete and utter relaxation of his body, and the haze of sleep that still enveloped him. He kept still, intending to postpone full wakefulness as long as possible, when he felt a stirring behind him.

Raphael stiffened. _What the—?_

He rolled to his back, and turned to see April asleep beside him.

April.

Lying right next to him.

_In bed._

He was suddenly and fully awake, but still oddly disoriented, and he half sat up as he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Almost immediately, he knew. He was in April's room. April and _Casey's_ room. It looked… different, but there was no doubt about it. His heart was pounding as he tried to remember, tried to figure out how he got here, when April stirred beside him again. Her hair was loose, tousled, and she muttered something in her sleep and stretched an arm up across the pillow her face was pressed into… and immediately Raph's eyes caught on her shoulder—her slender, _bare_ shoulder that was no longer covered by the sheet draped over the rest of her.

He was in April's room, in her bed, and she was _naked_ underneath the covers next to him… or at least topless.

He couldn't make any sense of this, of how this happened, but that wasn't his biggest problem at the moment. _I have to get out of here. NOW._

He scuttle-scooted backward, dry-mouthed with panic, but he was all caught up in the blankets coiled around him, around his legs, and he twisted and kicked but he couldn't free himself. He grabbed the sheets, trying to tear them away, and April moved again, this time opening her eyes and blinking sleepily.

"Raph," she muttered.

He didn't answer, but redoubled his efforts to free himself.

"Raph, hey, stop," April said faintly, and then she touched his shoulder.

That was the final straw, that touch—for what it meant, for what it made him feel, and he thrashed almost wildly, desperate to escape the bed that seemed to be trying to swallow him whole.

She grabbed his shoulder then, shaking, and her voice became louder, more assertive. "Raph! Raphae—OW! HEY DUDE, WAKE UP! **RAPH!**"

He gasped, feeling as if he'd smacked into a wall, and immediately upon opening his eyes realized it wasn't far off the mark. Not wall. Floor. His cheek was pressed against the floor, and he squinted up to see his hammock, still swaying gently, and Michelangelo staring down at him with wide eyes.

"I KNOCKED, okay?" his brother said with a note of panic in his voice. "Leo sent me! Practice is supposed to start soon, and when you weren't down for breakfast, Leo said to check on you, and I knocked, and you didn't answer so I peeked in, and you were sorta like, struggling, so I tried to wake you and you KICKED me and fell out of your hammock!"

All of that was said much too quickly to process for someone who had yet to peel himself off the floor. Slowly Raph pushed himself up on one arm, and then he was sitting up, rubbing his face. He looked over at the clock, strategically placed at the other end of the room. Yup. He'd overslept. "Fuck," he muttered, which was all he could think to say under the circumstances.

Michelangelo watched him for a moment. "Um. You okay?" he asked.

"Peachy," he grumbled, and started to get up. His brother extended a hand out, and Raph looked at it for a heartbeat before grasping it. Mike pulled him up.

"So what was that, like a nightmare or something?" Michelangelo asked.

"Or something," Raph answered, and automatically began hunting for his mask and gear.

His brother stood quietly, watching him as he gathered his stuff. "Anything you wanna talk about?"

Raph plucked his mask off the floor, straightened, and began tying it on. "It was just a dream," he said dismissively, as if he'd already forgotten it. _Right. I wish._ "Tell Leo not to get his panties in a bunch, I'll be right down."

"Sure thing," Mike said, but he continued to stand there, watching. "So… you're not mad that I came into your room without permission?" he asked at last.

Raphael just shrugged. "You said you knocked." _Several times._ "Guess Leo would a' freaked out if you didn't check on me."

"Right. Exactly." Mikey paused, then said, "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

Raph turned slowly to level a dangerous look at him. "Ask me one more time and you'll find out."

His brother took the hint. "Ooookay, see ya downstairs," he said, beating a hasty retreat.

Raph watched him go, and then heaved a sigh. The truth was he wasn't okay. This wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of her, and there seemed to be a pattern emerging. The first time, just a few days ago, he'd dreamed he and April were curled up on the couch together, sitting up but sharing a blanket, her warmth pressed against his side and her head resting on his shoulder. Weird, for sure, since Raph wasn't exactly known for his cuddly nature, but otherwise no big deal, right? Right… except the warmth he'd felt had had very little to do with the blanket covering them.

In the next one April had been massaging his shoulders. There wasn't really anything… suggestive about the way she touched him, but as in real life he'd been powerless to move. Long after awakening he could still feel her hands on him, working slowly and firmly against the muscles, and just the memory of it was enough to make him shudder involuntarily.

And now today, it had been more intimate still, and his stomach swooped when he wondered just what his dreams would be like if the progression continued along this path. Even though the end of the dream had been dominated by feelings of anxiety and panic, it was the other parts his thoughts kept slipping back to—the feeling of relaxation and contentment and warmth, the fall of her hair across the crisp white pillow, the sleepy way she'd looked up at him, not quite smiling, and of course her smooth bare skin emerging from the sheets. _She_ hadn't been freaked out when she'd seen him next to her in bed…

_I wonder if we… Goddammit, no, it was just a dream! Nothing happened before that, because it wasn't __real__!_

Savagely he tugged on his other kneepad, took a deep breath, and went downstairs. Maybe practice was exactly what he needed right now—nothing like good ol' fashioned violence to take his mind off things.

When he got downstairs, Mike and Don were already in the dojo ready to start warm-ups, and Leo was just about to join them. Leonardo turned to him, his expression neutral.

"Hey. Sorry, I guess I forgot to set my alarm," Raph said at once. He glanced past Leo into the dojo, and then back in the direction of the kitchen before looking back to his brother. "Um. Do I have time to grab something to eat real quick?" His brother was a hard-ass when it came to punctuality, and he was in Training Mode right now, all business, but he wasn't unreasonable. Depending on what Master Splinter had planned for today, it could be a while before he got another chance to eat.

Leonardo studied him with a swift glance that seemed to take in everything all at once, and Raph knew that Mikey had told him about the "nightmare."

"Go ahead," Leo said. Then his eyes settled on Raph's right arm. "How's the arm?"

"You mean besides the pus and the smell?"

Leo's eyes narrowed very slightly, and Raph sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's fine, Leo—just like it was yesterday when you asked, and the day before that."

His brother's jaw tightened just slightly, but all he said was, "Just the same, I'll ask Donny to take a look later." Which of course meant he wasn't giving Raph a choice in the matter. "And don't forget to wrap it good before practice."

"Aye aye, captain," he answered with a mock salute. Still, he supposed he understood how Leonardo felt—Raph had inflicted wounds on his brothers during practice before… sometimes it had even been accidental. Even though they all accepted these kinds of injuries as part of the package, it was hard not to feel a little guilty.

By the time Raph finished eating and wrapping his arm, Leonardo was leading his brothers through a set of slow katas designed more for stretching muscles and loosening joints than practicing real skills. Raph took a couple of laps at Leo's direction before joining them. After the preliminaries were finished came the more intense part of the warm-up routine—the part that actually prepared their bodies for the physically strenuous workout that their sensei undoubtedly had planned for them.

The specific content varied somewhat on a day-to-day basis, and today Leo had them doing stations—flips at one, rolls at another, climbing ropes, punching bag… and that was just the warm-up. When they were younger, Splinter had had them on conditioning schedules as well to make sure they stayed on track with cardio and strength-building, but now they were expected to keep up with that one their own—and with the rigorous daily training sessions they had, it was easy to spot anyone who'd been slacking. In addition to all of this they had a weekly schedule for one-on-one sessions with Master Splinter, and regular topside drills.

Once upon a time, Raphael had found this regimen oppressive. Not the physical work itself—that he'd virtually thrived on. It was more the rigidity of it, the _relentlessness_ of it, and the perceived lack of choice. But now he saw things differently. The team was whole again, and he intended to do everything he could to make sure it stayed that way.

The arrival of their sensei signaled the beginning of training, and they knelt around him to hear what he had planned for today's session. Raphael listened attentively… for the first minute or so, anyway. But as Master Splinter talked on seemingly without getting any closer to explaining what they'd be doing, it became increasingly difficult to keep his own thoughts at bay.

He'd only spoken to her once since That Night. She'd called the next day to see if he was feeling any better, and to badger him about checking in with Don "just in case," in spite of his assurances that he was feeling much better. Which was a lie. If anything he felt worse, and the goddamn dreams weren't helping.

_Ain't like I can control 'em_, he thought, but guilt tightened around his insides like a frigid coil of wire. Because even though he hadn't called her, knew he shouldn't call her, he'd _wanted_ to call her. He'd even considered texting her, in spite of the fact that he hated sending text messages—ninja or not, tiny buttons and oversized fingers weren't exactly a smooth combo. But he was supposed to be backing off, not finding new ways to contact her. No, he should wait for her to call him again, which would probably be when she had some night in mind for their next get-together.

_And then what? _

Raphael's stomach lurched a little as he considered his next move. Assuming there were no legitimate conflicts, should he agree to see her? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. To carry out his plan, he knew he had to see her eventually… but maybe he should put it off a bit so as not to seem too eager. He fidgeted a little, unthinkingly, and then drew in a short, startled breath when he felt the slight but unmistakable kiss of steel against his throat. He froze, not even daring to breathe as his entire existence shrank to that one touch, that cold line pressed to his neck. It didn't matter that he knew himself to be in the dojo surrounded by family, or that it was clearly the blunt edge of a weapon that was touching him. Here it might be purely symbolic, but in other circumstances it was the prelude to a lethal strike. Game over. The end. And it was never something to be taken lightly, even in training.

Still holding completely still, Raph raised his eyes to see his father—no, his sensei—staring at him across the length of a sword, expression impassive but eyes blazing.

"It is not just physical distractions we must practice overcoming," the rat said, clearly elaborating on something he'd already said that Raph hadn't heard. "Is that not so, Raphael?"

Raph swallowed. "_Hai _Sensei," he said, resisting the impulse to look down as the burn of shame spread over his face. He recognized the blade as Leo's, and knew their sensei had just made an example of him… and he had no defense, no excuse—not one his father would find acceptable, anyway. The rat held the sword in position for a moment longer before smoothly withdrawing it and handing it back to Leonardo, who wore his best poker face as he re-sheathed the weapon.

"It is clear there is something on your mind," Splinter continued, "So it is fortunate that you will have a lot of time to think while you are cleaning the dojo this afternoon—including the practice weapons," he said with a gesture to the far side of the dojo. "When you are finished you will also clean your brothers' personal weapons, if they wish it."

Raphael felt the familiar smolder of indignant anger pressing against his chest, trying to break free, but he gritted his teeth and fought it down, even managing a small, submissive dip of his head as he answered, "_Hai_, Sensei." _This day just keeps getting better and better._

The rat studied him another moment before giving a short nod of acknowledgment. "Now, I while I repeat the explanation of today's training for Raphael…" He looked up, his eyes sweeping around to include the others. "…You three will do _Jisatsu_."

There was an audible groan from Michelangelo, and a huff of resigned breath from Don. Only Leo was silent, but Raph was sure he was no more thrilled than the others. _Jisatsu_, an adaptation of the "suicide" sprints commonly used in American athletics for conditioning, was one of Master Splinter's more evil exercises. Instead of sprinting back and forth from line to line, they alternated between running and flips—no chance for a rest, no letup in between. It was grueling, and as far as Raph could tell, the only purpose was to tire them out. Quickly.

"Begin now!" the rat barked in Japanese when they moved out too slowly for his liking, and only when Mike, Don, and Leo had spread out and started the exercise did he turn back to Raphael. "So," he said, watching Raph closely. "Does it seem fair to you that your brothers are doing _Jisatsu_ when _you_ were the one who was not paying attention?"

Raph shook his head but kept his eyes downcast, trying his best to block out the sounds of his brothers' exertions. "No Sensei," he said quietly.

"Good answer—it is not fair. Just like it would not be 'fair' if they were hurt or killed in a fight because your thoughts were elsewhere. You must learn to focus your mind at will, no matter what distractions are present. _Wakarimashita-ka_?"

Yeah, he understood… but it still pissed him off. It wasn't like there was much danger of him spacing out while he was actually _fighting_, it was just the sitting around and yacking he found tedious. But then again, even though they hadn't been fighting, he'd still ended up with a sword at his throat… which he supposed was exactly the point his father was trying to make. "Hai, Sensei," he said at last, his tone resigned.

"Good. Because that is the focus of today's training."

* * *

Using the term "training session" to describe what happened after that was almost laughable. _Torture_ session was more like it. The concept wasn't wholly unfamiliar—Master Splinter said they had to practice fighting under difficult conditions as much as possible so they could adapt more easily when things went wrong in a real battle, and from time to time he created scenarios meant to mimic such conditions.

Like one time, Splinter had woken them all up after just a few hours of sleep and held an impromptu training session. Another time he'd had them fast for 24 hours before practice. Predictably, training on an empty stomach had been harder on one member of the team than the others. Raph was eagerly awaiting the day he'd tell them they needed to practice fighting while intoxicated, but for today the plan had been to give each of them physical impairments by tying or weighting down an arm or a leg. Which would have been hilarious to watch, if they were all "handicapped" at the same time… but of course that wasn't good enough for Splinter.

Theoretically, they were supposed to overcome their handicaps well enough to fight against able-bodied opponents, so each time they were paired up to spar, only one of them was given an impairment, which basically amounted to an ass-kicking of epic proportions. And since none of his brothers were particularly happy with Raph after the whole _Jisatsu_ thing, they took their revenge where they could.

So now here he was—banged up, exhausted, and on the home stretch at last. Raph had spent the afternoon—all afternoon, except for a quick lunch break—vaccuuming, sweeping, dusting, beating mats, and mopping. He'd even cleaned the candle sconces and replaced every single candle. Plenty of time to think indeed… Master Splinter had even forbidden him from listening to music while he worked, so there'd been nothing else to do _but_ think. And no matter how hard he fought it, his thoughts came back to one thing… or rather, one person. Even this, cleaning weapons, reminded him of the last time he'd seen April, and the way she'd handled his sai with such delicacy and reverence. It made his stomach flip a little every time, and that was bad bad bad, but he couldn't seem to stop. And he still didn't know what he was going to say next time she called and invited him over…

When Leonardo entered the dojo several minutes later, Raph wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

"Hey. How's it coming?" his brother asked.

Raph grunted, a noncommittal sound. Leo could take that however he wanted.

"What do you have left?"

Wordlessly he raised the _bokken_ he'd been cleaning and pointed it at the weapon rack near the workout bench where he sat. "Got all those weapons left to clean, plus Mike's and Don's, an' whatever you brought for me," he said, at last glancing over at his brother.

"Right. Here you go." Leo held out his hand, and Raph raised his brow ridges when he saw what his brother was offering. "Two shuriken? That's all you've got for me?"

Leonardo shrugged lightly. "Thought you'd be happy."

"Ecstatic," Raph grumbled. He held out his hand to accept the weapons, and set them down next to the rest of the stuff. Leo's full "arsenal" was by far the largest, so he supposed he should be relieved he hadn't brought more, but Raph couldn't muster much enthusiasm about that when he'd been at it so long already. He picked up his cloth again and continued cleaning the _bokken_. "That because you feel sorry for me, or because you don't trust me to handle your precious weapons?" he said sourly.

"Neither," Leo replied, taking a seat beside him on the bench. "My other stuff just doesn't need cleaning, that's all. Just did them last night."

Raph snorted. "Of course you did." He remained silent as he continued going over the wooden sword, making sure to get deep in the grooves and fissures with the cloth. Then he glanced over in surprise when Leonardo picked up a second cloth from the ground in front of him, dampened it in the bowl of water Raph had put on the floor, and began cleaning the handle of a _kama_ he'd taken off the rack.

"You don't have to do that," Raph muttered, but he was slightly mollified by the gesture.

"I don't mind—I actually find it kind of satisfying," Leo answered as he continued cleaning.

"Maybe _you_ don't mind, but Splinter might. This is supposed to be my punishment."

"I don't think he'll mind. I think he was impressed with you today."

_Come again? _Raph glanced over, hoping for something more of a clue in his brother's expression, but Leo had his eyes fixed down on the weapon.

"You think he was _impressed_ with me?" Raph said. "For what, beating the all-time record for how fast one of us ends up with a sword at their throat?" He shook his head. "Can I have some of whatever you've been smoking?"

Leo glanced up with a quick smile at that last comment, but he was serious when he answered, "You screwed up… but you accepted the repercussions without getting defensive or surly or… violent, and you worked hard during the rest of practice. Besides, it wasn't like you were the only one who wasn't paying attention during Sensei's explanation. Hell, Mikey was practically catatonic, and Donny… well, he's good at hiding it, you know? But I doubt he was hanging on Master Splinter's every word."

Raph was quiet for a moment, taking that in, and he was scrubbing the _bokken_ rather aggressively with the cloth when he said, "So how come I was the only one to get nailed for it? How come they're not scrubbing out toilets or something?"

Leo ran the cloth once more down the handle of the weapon, and then stopped, resting his elbow on his knee as he turned pointedly to look at Raphael. "Because his standards for you are higher."

"Wha—why?!" Raphael sputtered.

"Well, you're serious about this now." Leonardo paused, and searched his face with those keen eyes. "Aren't you?"

Raphael couldn't even keep up a pretense of cleaning now. He could only stare. And for some reason, his heart was beating a little harder in his chest.

"Okay… let me ask you this," Leo continued when he realized he wasn't going to get an answer. "If Splinter gathered us all together tonight and announced that from now on, training was optional… where do you think Michelangelo would be when it was time to start practice?"

"He'd be in front of the TV playing video games," Raph answered immediately. "And eating junk food until he made himself sick."

Leo nodded. "And where would Don be?"

"He'd… I dunno. He might show up sometimes, just enough so Master Splinter could see he was trying, but mostly he'd be on his computer or in his lab."

Leo nodded again. "And where would I be?"

That was a no-brainer. "You'd be right here. Every goddamn day."

This time he got a flicker of a smile, and then Leo looked him in the eyes and said, "Where would you be?"

Raph lowered his eyes, thinking, and then he raised them slowly to meet his brother's. "I'd be right here with you," he said gruffly. He spoke the words softly, but his left hand was clutching the handle of the _bokken_ so hard it hurt.

Leo held his eyes, studying them for a long moment, and finally nodded. "And that's it. That's the difference. Master Splinter sees it, and I see it. Mike and Don… their hearts aren't in it. Yet, anyway. That could change, just like it did for me, and for you. And if that happens, they'll be held to a higher standard, too."

Raph looked back down and continued rubbing the practice sword, which was undoubtedly cleaner by now than it had been in years. "Great. Just fucking great. So I get to be held to a 'higher standard,' and then get punished when I fail to meet it. I'm honored. Truly."

"Welcome to my world," Leo said with just a hint of bitterness.

Raphael laughed in surprise, and his brother glanced up with a rueful smile. Then Raph looked down and shook his head, still smiling. He switched his damp cloth for a dry one and went over the practice sword again, thinking. "That why you came in here, to give me some sort a' pep talk?"

"No."

He finished drying the bokken, inspected it, and then took yet another cloth, dampening with a little linseed oil. Master Splinter hadn't specifically said he had to oil the wooden weapons, but it was part of good weapon maintenance to oil them when they started to get dry, and Raph figured if he was gonna do this, he might as well do it right. "Why _did_ you come here, then?" he asked at last.

"In part, because Master Splinter asked me to inspect your work when you finished, make sure everything was up to par. But mainly, I came because you seem like you have something… weighing on you."

It was an opening, an invitation to talk about it if he wanted to, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell _anyone_ about this. So he sighed in feigned frustration and deflected. "I'm fine! Jeezus. You said yourself the others weren't paying attention either, so why don't you go see what's bothering them?"

His brother finished running an oiled cloth over the handle of the _kama_, and then replaced it on the weapon rack and selected its twin for cleaning. "It's not just your lapse in attention this morning, it's your whole… vibe," Leo said calmly.

_Should've known, it's the damn "vibe" again giving me away, _said his sarcastic inner voice. God it was annoying having a brother like Leo sometimes.

Leonardo glanced sidelong at Raph. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." He shrugged. "Just thought I might be able to help."

_I wish_, thought Raph, but he didn't say anything, and even though it was clear his brother wasn't the least bit fooled, he let it drop. They both worked in silence for a time, cleaning side by side, and perhaps because Leonardo didn't seem inclined to press him on it, Raph's resolve to shut him out began to waver a little.

"So what do you do, when you have something… weighing on you?" Raphael said at length.

Leonardo's eyes flicked to him, just for a moment. "You mean if I don't want to talk about it?"

"Right," Raph confirmed. He knew his brother was letting him know the offer still stood, but it was out of the question.

"In that case," Leo said, "I'd probably meditate on it."

Raph paused in his cleaning, and leveled a Look at his brother.

"Hey, you asked me what _I'd_ do," Leonardo defended, "You didn't ask me what I thought _you _should do."

Raph sighed. "Okay, smartass, whaddya think _I _should do, then?"

"Depends. I need a little more information. Not specifics," he added quickly, "Just… well, for example, is it a problem you're trying to find a solution to?"

Raph shifted a little on the bench. "Noooo," he said after a moment's thought. "I've got that worked out, but I just, um, can't stop thinking about some of the details. It's like my mind just keeps going back to the same things."

Leo nodded to himself. "What about at night?"

"Sorta the same thing. I can't seem to get my brain to shut down, and when I do, it's, um… I have these dreams." God, those dreams… the worst part was, as much as they freaked him out, part of him hoped they would continue.

His brother was quiet for a minute, running the cloth smoothly over the staff he was working on. "Sometimes," Leo answered at last, "When your mind seems to be running in circles, it's because it's unable to complete the cycle of thought. In many cases, that's because you're blocking it, either consciously or subconsciously. When your mind spends a lot of time blocking when you're awake, it can carry over to your _unconscious_ mind—which is the part that takes over when you're sleeping."

"Very informative. And that's supposed to help me how, exactly?"

"Well, sometimes if you allow your mind to complete the cycle of thought, it'll stop running in circles and let go, so to speak."

"And how do I do that?" Raph asked slowly. "Complete the cycle of thought?"

"Normally I'd suggest using meditation to sort of tap into your subconscious and override the mental block, but since that's apparently out of the question, if I were you I'd try some release techniques."

It was too perfect—he couldn't pass it up. "Release techniques, huh?" Raph said, looking up at his brother with a sly grin. "I gotta tell you, I thought I was doing enough a' that, but I guess I could do a little more if you think it'd help."

Leo rolled his eyes and huffed. "Okay, forget that—let's call them… bridging techniques, then. Basically, they're techniques to help you unblock your unconscious mind so it can complete the cycle of thought while you're sleeping. The idea is that when you wake up, your mind won't be so preoccupied with it."

Well that kinda sounded like a load of crap to Raph. "Kinda sounds like a load of crap to me," he said bluntly.

Leo shrugged, seemingly unfazed. "Just an suggestion. I can tell you how to do it if you want."

Raphael hesitated. It _did_ sound like crap… but then what would it hurt to try? If it didn't work, he'd be no worse off than he was now. And even just sitting here talking to Leo she wasn't far from his mind, with Casey in a distant second, which somehow seemed backwards to him. He'd been spending so much time with April, but _Casey_ was his best friend. Maybe that was the problem—maybe he just needed a little refresher on where his loyalties were supposed to lie. He didn't think Case was working tonight, and he could definitely use a change of scenery...

"Thanks, but it ain't that big a' deal. Think I'll just give it some more time."

"Suit yourself," Leo said, and continued cleaning.

They cleaned the rest of the practice weapons together, more or less in silence, and though Leo might have been hanging around to see if he would change his mind, Raph rather suspected he was just being… nice.

That, and his brother really _did_ like cleaning weapons, which made him wonder which of them was more screwed up.

* * *

Author's Note: It was rather late at night when I did the final read-through on this, so please let me know if noticed any errors. As always, other comments or concrit are welcome as well.

~KT


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